


Love At First Click

by Rubadubababyoil



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Boys In Love, Brian has no social media impulse control let's be honest, Crush at First Sight, First Kiss, First Meetings, First Time, Getting Together, M/M, Protective Brian May, Roger Taylor (Queen) Is a Good Friend, YouTube
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:34:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24673180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubadubababyoil/pseuds/Rubadubababyoil
Summary: Brian didn't intend to become a popular guitarist on YouTube, nor did he intend to fall for a singer on the website by the name of Freddie Mercury. When the internet starts to make fun of Freddie's appearance and demeanor, however, Brian has a hard time keeping his mouth shut.Cue internet drama all for a man he's never even met.
Relationships: Brian May/Freddie Mercury
Comments: 121
Kudos: 188





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This all started because I thought of how Brian has gotten into internet drama in the past because he's so opinionated, and he would have 100% gotten involved in online fights if social media had been around when he was young, especially if people came after Freddie!  
> Anyway, Brian is very much head-over-heels in this story~

Brian would say he had no idea how he wound up head-over-heels for a YouTube star, but no, in truth he knew exactly how it happened.

Roger always kept up with pop culture and the latest trends on social media, so one would think that he started his YouTube channel first, but it was actually Brian. He had rather limited social media during his teenage years, partly because his father thought it was all a waste of time, but then Brian saw people posting videos of themselves playing instruments and performing covers while he scrolled through the site out of boredom one afternoon. He thought, _ I can do that.  _ He loved playing guitar in his free time, and he was rather good at it, in his opinion (and Roger’s opinion, too, when he was in a good mood). 

Brian started to film videos of himself playing some guitar covers on his laptop’s webcam, either with an acoustic guitar or with his Red Special, depending on the song. It was a little uncomfortable at first, having a camera on him, and he smiled awkwardly at the beginning of the videos and explained what he was about to do, and then got playing. Once he let his fingers do the talking, he would lose himself and forget all about the camera until the song was over. He didn’t really have all the fancy editing other videos had, mainly because it was weird watching footage of himself. 

His videos were raw, and he didn’t expect many people to view them, but somehow, 100 subscribers turned into 1,000, then 10,000, and after posting videos since the start of uni three years ago, he had just reached 400,000 subscribers. He really didn’t know how it happened, but one day he was suddenly getting waves of comments.

_ “Wow, where’d you learn to play like that??” _

_ “Nice, man! Keep the videos coming.” _

_ “Omg where did you buy your guitar??? It’s so cool!” _

_ “Where did you get a guitar in that shade of red? It’s sooo pretty.” _

_ “Nice hair <3” _

There were some negative comments, but they were far outweighed by the positivity, so as long as he didn’t think about them too much, it was okay. It was strange, having an online presence when in real life, he was just a quiet astrophysics student who didn’t know how to start a conversation. He felt uncomfortable in his own skin, with his gangly limbs and mess of hair, but online, he played with confidence. There were strangers out there in the world who looked forward to seeing him play guitar. Sort of wild to think about.

Privately, it stroked his ego  _ just  _ a bit.

It wasn’t all egotistical, though, not by a long shot. It was nice to be liked by people. Secretly, Brian had some screenshots of extra kind comments saved on his phone for when his depression threatened to keep him in bed all day, and wondered if other content creators did the same.

Covers got more clicks than original compositions, but Brian liked writing songs much more. He didn’t have as much time to do it as he would have liked, so he only posted a small handful of original songs. Despite those videos receiving fewer views, the positive feedback made him happy as a clam. He wished he had more of a break from his schoolwork and his day job as a tutor to compose even more.

Once his channel gained popularity, he made an Instagram, too, so he could interact with his viewers more, and due to his love of photography. He enjoyed taking photos around their small flat and posting them on his account, and sometimes Roger was in them, much to his irritation. 

It was the 10,000 subscriber mark that outraged Roger and compelled him to create his own channel for drum videos because  _ “I’m  _ way  _ more suited to be a YouTube star than you!”  _ He built up a viewership, too, and got more comments calling him cute or hot, and that went straight to his head. Still, as hot-headed as he could be at times in real life, Roger was surprisingly good at ignoring any negative comments. 

“They’re just wankers with nothing better to do,” he’d shrugged to Brian. “If they really didn’t give a shit about my videos, they wouldn’t watch. Same goes for the tossers in your comments section.”

Brian supposed that was true.

Since they shared a flat, it was easy for them to post occasional collab videos, but usually Roger sang in those. Brian was a lot less comfortable singing for the camera than playing his guitar, and he only sang a handful of songs on his channel. He didn’t think his voice was awful, but he knew he wasn’t a singer, and there were so many people on YouTube far more gifted than he was in that respect.

Especially one in particular.

Brian hadn’t even been the one to discover his videos. 

Roger came into his room one evening. “Hey, you busy?”

“Not at the moment,” Brian said, scrolling mindlessly on his laptop after an evening of studying. “What’s up?”

Roger climbed onto his bed without being invited. “There’s this channel on YouTube that was recommended for me, so I checked out a couple videos. The bloke can really sing.”

“Oh, yeah?” Brian sat up a little. “What’s his username?”

“HisMajestyMercury.”

He snorted. “Bit proud, isn’t he?” He and Roger had been on YouTube for a few years now, so they were used to seeing some big egos, but someone calling themselves royalty was new.

“I think it’s just his thing,” Roger replied with an amused grin. “He seems kinda funny. He has an Instagram, too. C’mon, type it into YouTube.”

Brian did, and clicked on the first video that came up, a cover of “I Want to Hold Your Hand” by the Beatles. The video started, and there was a boy with large brown eyes and black, wavy hair that extended past his jaw. He batted his long lashes playfully at the camera. 

“Helloooo again, lovies!” he cooed. “I’ve decided to grace you all with another video.”

It looked like this Mercury person was in a bedroom, just the way Brian and Roger filmed their videos. There were fairy lights hung on the wall, above deep purple curtains, and they cast a warm glow on his face. He was standing up with headphones on and a microphone in front of him, and over his shoulder, an electronic piano could be seen in the background. He gave the camera a quick little closed-lipped smile as the intro began on the backing track, but then it was as if someone flipped a switch when he started singing.

_ “Oh I’ll, tell you something. I think you’ll understand. Then I’ll, tell you something. I want to hold your hand!” _

He hit the high note perfectly. Confidence didn’t even begin to describe his performance; he just had this  _ aura  _ about him that instantly captivated Brian. As he sang, he was joyful, proud, playful, and his hands fluttered around. He knew how to make eye contact with the camera in a way that got your attention, but wasn’t creepy.

The thing was that other YouTubers seemed to be trying too hard to stand out, or to make the songs their own, but one video in and Brian could see that he was a natural performer.

Not to mention his voice.

He was amazing. He hit all the right notes and his voice was as smooth as silk, but strong, too. He clearly had a powerful set of lungs, despite looking like he had a small frame.

Brian could only stare at his screen and soak in the performance.

When the song ended, Mercury blinked and he smiled with closed lips again, almost shyly. “There you are, dears. You’re welcome for that performance. Bye,” he waved and wiggled his fingers, and the video ended.

Brian sucked in a breath. “Wow…”

“Pretty damn good, isn’t he?” Roger asked casually. “His voice is great, obviously, but there’s something about the way he sings, too. And did you hear his runs? It’s clear he knows his pentatonic scales...Brian?”

Brian blinked hard and looked away from his screen. “What? Yeah, yeah, no, I agree. He’s really good.”

That was how Brian stayed up until 2 am that night watching all of Mercury’s videos once Roger left his room, despite having class in the morning. He couldn’t help it. He was hooked instantly. He just had to hear if his singing was that good in every video, and indeed, it was. Mercury’s voice was incredible, and he had the ability to capture the viewer by looking directly into the camera with his dark eyes and teasing smile. Upon watching more, Brian got the feeling that Mercury was actually a little older than he initially looked, and was probably around his age. Still, to have a voice that good at this age was a gift. The best videos, to Brian, were not covers, but Mercury’s original compositions. Like Brian, he didn’t have that many on his channel and they got fewer views than the covers, but he was apparently a talented songwriter and pianist, too.

Brian clicked on a video called “My Melancholy Blues.”

“All right, darlings,” Mercury smiled at the camera, which was positioned beside him at an electric piano. He was wearing a powder blue T-shirt that complimented his complexion, and his long fingers were poised on the piano. “I’ve got a little treat for you today. One of my originals. You heard it here first, lovies.” He began playing the piano, the intro sounding a bit like the blues. He started to sing,  _ “Another party’s over, and I’m left cold sober. My baby left me for somebody new.” _

Brian watched his fingers dance along the keys and his eyes close in passion as he sang. His voice was strong and smooth like butter, and the fairy lights highlighted his dark hair. He was lost in the song, his own creation, his own little world. It was a sight to be seen. Brian’s heart thumped hard. When the song ended, Mercury blinked open his eyes, as if in a daze. He looked at the camera, and then he winked. “Liked that, didn’t you?”

Brian did. He loved it, in fact, and just had to subscribe to his channel. The creative part of his brain thought that it would be wonderful to write songs for a voice like that, and to play guitar with him. He and Roger made a pretty good pair, but what if they had a singer and pianist like that to join them?

He shook his head. That would probably never happen.

In any case, this was how Brian became completely screwed, because it turned out his heart couldn’t quite handle this beautiful boy with a voice to match,  _ and  _ songwriting skills,  _ and  _ piano skills.

He kept this to himself, though, because the last thing he needed was Roger teasing him over a bloody internet crush.

* * *

After subscribing, Brian found his Instagram account and looked up more about him in between classes, tutoring, and studying. It turned out Mercury’s first name was Freddie, and his Instagram bio read as follows: “Freddie Mercury / 22 / singer and songwriter / cat lover / gay as a daffodil.”

Brian blinked at the last part, and felt himself chuckling. That was blunt, but he got the sense that Freddie was the type who was blunt about everything. Freddie had three cats who were the stars of his Instagram, and Brian was disappointed that he had very few pictures of himself on the account, because god, was he cute. Brian couldn’t deny how his heart thudded when those gorgeous eyes looked at the screen. In some videos, Freddie would smile at his audience at the very end with teeth, but would quickly purse his lips and cover them. Brian didn’t know if that was a quirk of his, but when he wasn’t making exaggerated expressions from singing, Freddie’s lips actually looked quite plump. 

There was one picture on Instagram that Freddie was tagged in by a friend (some “deacybass” person) where he was sitting at the piano, seemingly lost in thought and unaware of the camera. He was looking down at sheet music in his hand, and his front teeth peeked out over his lower lip. Brian thought it was incredibly endearing. 

He looked on the deacybass account out of curiosity, and it was run by a bassist named John. His account didn’t have that many posts--just some short videos of him playing, but there were a handful of pictures of Freddie, and one video. In the pictures on John’s page, Freddie’s expression was soft, much softer than in any of his videos. In one photo, he wore a big T-shirt that hung loosely around his shoulders, like a pajama shirt, and his grin was crooked and gentle. His large eyes looked up at the camera shyly.

Bloody hell, such an innocent image shouldn’t have made Brian’s heart beat so hard. He wasn’t some blushing virgin, so why did Freddie have such an effect on him?

In the video on John’s channel, captioned as “outtake :)”, Freddie messed up a run on the piano, and laughed heartily. “Did you hear that?” he laughed to the person behind the camera, who must have been John. The corners of his eyes were crinkling. 

“Fingers not working today?” John asked from behind the camera.

“Apparently not!” Freddie said and put his hand over his chest with another laugh. “John, dear, turn that off for a few minutes.” He was joyful and, frankly, adorable. Brian never found another man adorable before; he had never done anything with another man, either, but he found himself looking at Freddie’s plump lips and wondering what they would feel like against his.

Brian found himself thinking of Freddie’s lips in class, and he snapped himself out of it. What was wrong with him? He didn’t even know Freddie, never had a single interaction with him. Plus, Freddie wasn’t the only attractive YouTuber out there, and Brian never developed a crush on any other. But none of the others were as talented as he, not by a long-shot. Brian followed John on Instagram, too, partly because he seemed to be genuinely talented, but also so he could see any more candid photos of Freddie.

God, he had it bad.

There was even a day when Brian felt like the only thing that could make him feel better was Freddie’s voice. His depression was acting up again. He managed his responsibilities well enough, but being a full-time student for a major that was hard as hell  _ and  _ dealing with teenagers who didn’t want to do maths got to him from time to time. His limbs felt heavy and his chest was hollow when he shuffled into his bedroom after a long day. The disconcerting feeling in his chest wouldn’t go away, not after doing breathing exercises or strumming on his guitar. There was a tightness in his throat, and he needed to calm down. He went on his laptop and opened up his internet browser, its homepage set to YouTube since he spent so much time on there, and without thinking he clicked on Freddie’s channel and let his uploads go on autoplay. Brian held his headphones against his ears, closing his eyes and swallowing hard. 

Slowly, the sound of Freddie’s voice eased the tension in his throat, shoulders, and chest. The stress of having a million things to do lingered in his mind, but Brian felt like he could breathe again.

One night while they were watching telly, Roger turned to him with a sly smile. “All right, who is it?”

Brian frowned. “Who?”

“Whoever you’re moping over.”

He was careful not to react. “I’m not moping.”

“You are.”

“I have depression, Rog. I tend to mope,” he dismissed.

Roger rolled his eyes. “Not like  _ that. _ I know you’ve got a crush on someone. Another girl in one of your classes you can’t work up the nerve to talk to?” he ribbed.

Brian looked at the telly, although he wasn’t paying attention to what was on it. He didn’t mention Freddie at all since first discovering his channel, but he’d been friends with Roger since high school--of course he noticed a change in his demeanor. Roger was sharp as a tack. “There’s no girl. I haven’t got a crush,” he mumbled.

“Liar,” Roger said easily. “Knowing you, you’re probably writing some sad love song during your classes.”

“I haven’t written a thing,” Brian denied, because it was true, but if this crush of his persisted? Well…

“Okay, then not yet. You’ve been checking your phone a lot. Waiting for a text?” he cocked an eyebrow.

“No,” he said honestly. He wasn’t waiting for texts, but notifications in his inbox of new videos from Freddie. He’d told Roger about the girls he dated in the past, but it would have been pathetic to admit he had spent the past few weeks thinking about someone he’d never said a word to. He wasn’t exactly out of the closet, either, not that Brian thought Roger would have a problem. It just wasn’t a conversation he felt like having right now, especially when nothing would come of his internet crush.

Roger knocked their shoulders together. “Come oooon.”

“No,” Brian crossed his arms over his chest moodily, because nope, he was not going to admit to being hung up over a bloody YouTuber. “You’re mistaken,” he said firmly. He stood up. “Anyway, I’ve got another video to edit.”

“And by ‘edit’ do you mean cut out your awkward, failed intros?” Roger asked.

“Piss off,” he tossed a throw pillow at him.

* * *

A couple months after Roger showed him Freddie’s channel, one of the students Brian tutored approached him after class. 

“Hey, Mr. May?” the girl asked hesitantly.

He smiled at her as he collected his things. “Yes?”

She took her phone out of her pocket. “Um, sorry, this might be a weird question, but isn’t this you?” She turned her phone around to show the screen, and there was Brian’s YouTube channel.

“Oh,” he felt himself flush a little in embarrassment. “Ha, yeah, it is.” It was odd to think of the teens he taught watching him at home, but he supposed it was to be expected, since YouTube was a public platform. At least he never posted anything inappropriate, so he didn’t have anything to worry about.

“That’s so cool!” she said. “How’d you get so many subscribers?”

“I don’t know, really,” he told her. “It just sort of happened. How’d you find the channel, do you play guitar?”

“No, I actually found your channel ‘cause a singer I like watches you.”

Brian ignored the tiny flutter in his chest, because there were literally thousands of singers online. “Oh yeah?” he asked casually, slinging his messenger bag over his shoulder.

“Yeah,” she grinned. “Freddie Mercury. Do you watch him?”

Brian hoped his face remained neutral yet polite. “Yeah, a couple videos here and there,” he said, as if he didn’t watch every video Freddie posted more than once. “Didn’t know he watches me. How do you know he does?” he asked, hands wrapped around the strap of his bag tightly.

At that, the girl blushed lightly. “Um, well, he left a comment on one of your videos yesterday. I can pull it up if you want?”

“If you wouldn’t mind,” he said, excitement bubbling in his chest.

When she showed her phone screen again, it was the comments section of one of Brian’s videos. The most recent, top-rated comment was from Freddie’s account, HisMajestyMercury:  _ “My, my, my! What long, talented fingers you have, Mr. May ;)” _

Now he knew why the student was blushing.

“Oh,” Brian choked, hoping his face didn’t look as red as it felt because he  _ really  _ didn’t want to blush in front of a student. With his young age, it was difficult enough to get them to respect him. He didn’t need to be blushing, but at least she was the only student left in class.

“Yeah,” she said with an awkward laugh, and put her phone away into her pocket. “Anyway, uh, he’s got a good voice, and you’re really good at guitar, too. What if you did a collab video?”

“I’ve never spoken to him,” Brian said, knuckles white from how tightly he was grasping his messenger bag. He wanted to get out of here. “It’d be nice, but, yeah, we don’t know each other. Erm, thanks for telling me, though, and thanks for watching. I’ve got to run home now, but make sure you study, yeah?”

“Right, yeah,” the girl nodded, looking a little disappointed by the abrupt end of the conversation. 

But Brian didn’t really care. His long legs strode quickly out of the school, and he was happy to finally make it to the tube and sit all the way on the last car in the corner so he could absorb this new information properly. Freddie watched his videos, or at least that one. Brian went on his phone to pull up the video, as if to confirm that the comment was really there and not some prank, but there it was. There were two thousand upvotes on the comment, and some users left replies:

_ “Omggg Freddie, you can’t just say that XD” _

_ “Freddie pls” _

_ “Omg he watches Brian?? Best crossover ever.” _

_ “@HisMajestyMercury you should sing with Brian! And Roger of course <3” _

_ “Hahaha of course he’d focus on his long fingers ;)” _

_ “Anyone else think they’d make a cute couple?” _

Flames burst over Brian’s face at that last comment. He’d wondered if he was imagining the flirtatious tone of the comment, but Freddie was far too obvious to be mistaken, and others evidently picked up on it. Everything about the comment was flirty (he’d used a winking emoji for god’s sake, and those were almost never platonic). He called him “Mr. May”, and somehow, that was sexy coming from Freddie. He teased that he had “talented” fingers, and then Brian’s mind flashed to Freddie calling him Mr. May and writhing as Brian’s fingers--

He nearly physically kicked himself in public, because he couldn’t get hot and bothered on the tube. He was an adult and had to control himself. Besides, even though Brian never had much of a problem with dirty thoughts, it felt wrong when he never said a single word to him, even if Freddie started it.

Brian put his phone away with a deep sigh. He was probably overthinking this. It was just a silly comment. This was from a man who called himself gay as a daffodil on a public social media account. Clearly, he had a sense of humor, and he most likely just meant that comment in a friendly way, albeit it tongue-in-cheek. In addition, Freddie was a beautiful person. He wouldn’t have any interest in someone like Brian. Although he received occasional comments complimenting his looks, he also saw some telling him to get a haircut and a nose job. He took Roger’s lead and tried not to let those comments get to him, because Roger was right. Anyone who left hate comments had nothing better to do. However, Brian was never confident about his looks, and those comments certainly didn’t help. Someone as attractive as Freddie wouldn’t actually be interested in him. He had stop thinking about his stupid, pointless crush and be happy that Freddie liked his playing.

What Brian should do instead was return the compliment by leaving a nice comment on one of Freddie’s videos. That was easy enough. He wouldn’t flirt in the comment, obviously. He decided to load up the video of “My Melancholy Blues.” He felt absurdly nervous. He shook his head and told himself to snap out of it. Brian had a habit of droning on, both in conversation and in text, and he held down backspace when he realized he was writing a mini-essay over the song. No, he couldn’t do that. His comment should be short, sweet, and to the point. Like Freddie.

_ “Great video! Your singing is perfect as always, but you should really play the piano and share more of your original compositions more :) They’re wonderful” _

Okay, this was his version of being brief, but whatever. Was a smiley face too much? He didn’t know. He still sort of had no idea how social media etiquette worked, but the tube arrived at his stop, so Brian posted the comment and got off the train.

Nothing would come of it, probably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how long this will be, but I hope you like it thus far! The internet drama will come later.  
> You can find me on tumblr under the same username :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is basically Brian being stuck in his own head and having a crisis lol

Brian told himself that it meant nothing when Freddie subscribed to his channel and followed his Instagram account. He was probably just returning the favor, being polite, and Roger told him that Freddie had done the same for his accounts, too.

“It’s kinda cool,” Roger said with an easy smile. “I normally don’t care about who follows me and all that, but I dunno, I like him. He seems fun.”

Brian hid his (pointless) disappointment with a grin. “Yeah, and he’s got real talent. Much better than most of the people I’ve seen on YouTube, anyway.”

“Yeah,” he agreed and sat down at the kitchen table, eyeing the clock so he wouldn’t be late for his class after breakfast. “Some people have got loads of subscribers just ‘cause of their looks.”

“Or because they’re autotuned,” Brian said.

“Or both. Did that Freddie bloke leave a comment on one of your videos, too?” he asked casually.

And there went Brian’s stupid hope that the flirtatious comment meant something. “Mhmm,” he mumbled. “One of my students told me about it. Poor girl, she was a little embarrassed.”

“Why?” he asked.

Brian pulled up the comment on his phone and showed the screen to Roger, who raised his eyebrows with a laugh. “That’s direct!”

Brian put his phone and played it off. “Yeah, well, it seems like he jokes around a lot online. What’d he say to you?”

Roger took out his phone, and after a moment, read the comment aloud. “‘You’re better than a drum machine, aren’t you, blondie?’ And a winking emoji.”

Brian hated himself for actually getting jealous over a bloody emoji. Still, the core of Freddie’s comment itself wasn’t as flirtatious as his towards Brian had been. No, he was overthinking it. It was too early for this conversation. “Hm. Nice of him,” he said idly. 

“Yeah, but he didn’t talk about my ‘talented fingers’ though,” he said with a wink.

Brian grumbled into his coffee cup. “Oh, please.”

Whatever, so Freddie followed Roger, too. He couldn’t blame him; Roger was a brilliant drummer. Freddie only respected Brian as an artist, but that was a fine thing. Freddie was crazy talented, and if he saw something worthwhile in his playing, then that was enough of a compliment for Brian to accept without asking for more. It was nice to simply be noticed for his skill as a musician. Asking for more would be pushing it.

But he got more without asking.

Because Freddie _only_ liked posts on his Instagram that were pictures of Brian himself. Not his pictures of his guitar, not short clips of him practicing, not even any pictures of Roger. Just Brian’s small amount of selfies. 

_Overthinking again,_ he told himself. He was an adult now and wasn’t about to read into every little social media transaction like he was 13 again. (Then again, wasn’t part of being a YouTuber reading too much into other people’s social media habits and making call-out videos? Ugh, people these days. Didn’t they have anything better to do?) He had to admit, though, that he wasn’t immune to social media distractions. He wanted to check his notifications more than usual during his classes, and that was out of character for him. He needed to get his head on straight. He had done a good job balancing his internet presence and coursework over the past three years, and he wasn’t going to let some bloke who he never directly spoke to ruin that. He’d heard of people slack in school due to relationships, but if he began to slip now because of someone who wasn’t even a friend, that would be pitiful. (What would his father think? What would his father think if he knew he liked men, in general? These questions always made him anxious.)

As he thought of all of this, his fingers swiped on his phone until he was looking at his notifications again.

_“Freddie.mercury liked your photo.”_

Brian sighed. He was at uni on his lunch break, and he mentally justified thinking of Freddie right now by the fact that he wasn’t in class. He was thinking of how Freddie liked every selfie of his...if he uploaded a new one, would the same thing happen?

Brian hesitated, but ultimately gave in and entered the men’s restroom after finishing his lunch. He had ten minutes before class, so he had to make it quick. No one was in there, and he looked at himself in the mirror with a grimace. Why did so many people take photos of themselves in public restrooms? The lighting was terrible, and he looked washed-out. _Wait, filters,_ he reminded himself. Besides, he couldn’t change his location now. He sighed at his reflection. He was wearing a uni jumper and black jeans. Not very fashionable, but better than his pajamas, he supposed. He thought of trying to fix his hair, but what was the point? His curls never listened to him. He snapped a mirror selfie before anyone could come in, and selected a filter that made him look less awful on his way to class. In the photo, he met the mirror’s gaze and bit his lower lip. The discomfort on his face was clear. 

_What am I doing? As if he’d like a photo like this. Why do I even_ want _his attention?_

Despite his frustration with himself, Brian posted it. He didn’t know what to put for the caption, so he just put “Bored.” Simple enough. He silenced his phone for the duration of his classes, and pretended his mind was on physics and not the internet. 

He at least had the resolve to wait until all of his classes were over for the day and he was on the tube to check Instagram. Despite his fatigue from the day, there was a tingle of excitement along his spine. There were hundreds of likes and comments, but he was only looking for one username.

Sure enough, Freddie liked the selfie, but this time, there was a comment, too.

_“Oooh, you’re an educated man, too? You’ve got everything, curly.”_

He must have noticed his uni jumper.

Brian put his phone down on his lap and took a deep breath. His cheeks were warm, and he wondered if Freddie pointed out his curly hair because he liked it, or if it was a slight dig at him, although he hadn’t been rude at all thus far. Brian was self-conscious of his unruly bird’s nest springing out in every direction. He used to straighten it in high school, but it got to be a pain when his schedule was packed with uni classes. He’d let it go, and while Roger told him it looked better this way, he really wasn’t sure. With his long, skinny legs, large nose, and nest of hair, Brian thought he looked like Big Bird from _Sesame Street._

There he was, with his thoughts running rampant again over one bloody comment. He appreciated his followers, he really did, but none of their attention could compare to Freddie’s. He was flushing on public transit due to a single comment. No one ever had this impact on him before, and it made him a tiny bit scared. He shook his head. He was always so hopeless when he wanted to talk to someone. Instead of responding to the comment, he liked it. That was kind of a reply, anyway.

Some people commented under Freddie:

_“Freddie follows Bri on insta now?”_

_“Freddie is a big mood, gushing over Brian 😍”_

_“Damn, first he flirts in the youtube comments and now here? Freddie’s about to slide into his DMs XD kidding, kidding”_

_“Do you guys think Brian reads his comments?”_

Brian licked his lips. It was hard to tell himself this was all in his head when strangers on the internet agreed with his heart’s assessment of things. Then again, the internet liked to imagine real people being together for reasons which mystified Brian.

* * *

“Any reason you decided to take a gloomy picture of yourself in the loo today?” Roger asked after Brian got home.

“Fuck off,” muttered, so not in the mood.

“Oi, bitchy,” Roger said under his breath.

“Sorry,” he said, because his bad mood wasn’t Roger’s fault. He briefly thought of asking him if he thought Freddie’s comment was flirty, but no, he didn’t want to let his crush be known. “Just tired.”

Roger was reclining on the sofa, eyes on the telly. “Hmm, no. That’s not it. I still say you’re hiding a crush from me.”

Brian busied himself with taking off his shoes and jacket. “This again?”

“You only act like this when you’re hung up over some girl in a class. You get in your head. More than usual, at least.”

“There’s no girl,” he said honestly.

“Then there’s a guy,” he shrugged a shoulder.

Brian’s back was turned as he grabbed a textbook from his bag, and he stared wide-eyed at the wall. He swallowed hard and stood up, buying time by pretending to look through the book. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, voice strained.

The only sound in their small living room came from the news on the telly. Of the two of them, Roger always kept up with current events.

Brian closed his textbook, ready to make a beeline for his room. He was so damn tired lately. He just wanted the semester to end and for his brain to stop being stuck on social media life, but neither was happening anytime soon.

“Hey,” Roger said, tone softening. “I was just joking. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Brian turned around, placing a neutral smile on his face. “I know,” he said, voice more strained than he intended.

He sat up a little, expression turning perturbed. They had been friends too long for him to miss that something was off with Brian. He chose his words carefully. “If that was true, by the way, it’d be fine. You know that, right?”

Brian definitely did not plan to have this conversation today. He blinked rapidly. Roger joked around with him so much that, after all these years, he didn’t know how to react when he got sincere, especially when it came to this. They never talked about this before, but Roger’s utter lack of shock and hesitation to reassure him was comforting. 

Roger frowned. “Is this what's been bothering you?”

“No,” Brian said, because Roger getting worried was making him upset, and the root of his issues truly wasn’t being afraid Roger would be close-minded. He was being a good friend, and Brian was closing himself off due to paranoia. Roger would never mock him for being attracted to men. Being attracted to a YouTuber? A different story.

But maybe he could tell him just a little bit. “Okay,” Brian said, hands tightening around his textbook. “There’s a guy.” That felt odd to say out loud.

Roger’s concern turned into satisfaction. “I _knew_ it,” he declared.

Brian sighed, but a relieved smile played at his lips. He hadn’t known how good Roger’s instant acceptance would feel. He felt a little guilty for doubting him even for a second. Nevertheless, he was _not_ going to tell him about Freddie. “But that’s all the information you’re getting.”

“Ughhh,” he groaned. “Seriously? You’re no fun.”

“I’m not dating him,” he said. “I don’t know if I’ll even talk to him.”

“So you’re just as hopeless with men as you are with women is what you’re saying,” Roger deadpanned.

Brian contemplated throwing his textbook at him.

But then he put on a grin and said. “Need help texting him?”

“I don’t even have his number, Rog.”

“Ok, well he’s got to have a social media account you can message him on.”

 _Oh boy, does he._ Brian deflected. “When I’m ready, all right? It’s not something I want to deal with now with school as busy as it is.”

He gave up. “Well, all right. Suit yourself.”

When Brian was finally in the solitude of his room, he was relieved that his crush was still safe. That could have gone much worse. He had an excuse at least until the semester ended for why he wasn’t talking to his crush, and that meant he had more time to pretend it wasn’t Freddie. It was all something he’d deal with _later._

* * *

Leave it to the internet to start connecting dots.

Brian spent a good couple weeks investing himself in his studies, hanging out with Roger, and songwriting, focusing on what needed to be done and what made him happy rather than his dumb feelings. It felt good to live life in the real world outside of a computer or phone screen. He was glad he had time to play music again. He posted a new video on his channel, and he put a preview of it on his Instagram. Freddie reposted the preview to his story with nothing but a heart-eyes emoji. Brian bit his lip to stop the smile, but closed out of the app. He wasn’t going to dwell on it.

The perpetual cloud over his head receded a little when he got to write music over the weekend, even though the song wasn’t finished. He thought it might be a little risky, writing a song about general relativity, but he was having a good time with it. His passions outside of the guitar were going to bleed into his music eventually, but he was also expressing this odd feeling he was experiencing more and more as he gained subscribers. He felt sort of alien, for lack of a better word, when he had to resume normal life in his classrooms after reading thousands of comments praising his playing. His boring daily life felt like a different world sometimes. He had most of the song written, but imagined singing the lead and Roger giving backing vocals. The idea of singing on camera made him nervous, and caused him to procrastinate on finishing the song. He could hit the notes, but he was untrained. Roger was, too, but his voice was much stronger, and he sang much more on his channel. Brian remembered a time when they both laughed hard when a YouTube comment said Roger’s voice oozed sex.

In any case, Brian was distracted away from songwriting when he was tagged on a post by someone he didn’t know on Instagram.

The caption to the post read as follows:

_“Ok, so, this might be nothing but I follow both Freddie Mercury and Brian May on here, right? So if they like a post, I see the like when I click on the post. Well I was going through Freddie’s account, and John Deacon’s, and Brian liked all of the pics of Freddie on there. Just Freddie! Not his cats and not John (kinda rude tbh but whatev). But then I go on Bri’s, and Freddie’s liked all of his selfies, too! Freddie follows Roger but he hasn’t liked every single one of his selfies like he has with Bri. Do you think something’s going on between them? I only noticed this after Freddie commented on Brian’s pic last week. Thoughts? @freddie.mercury @brianmayforreal”_

The pictures in the post, itself, were screenshots providing evidence of the person’s claims.

Brian’s heart was beating in his ears. Shit, he was so obvious that other people were picking up on it. He didn’t even know that others would be able to see what posts he liked. Roger once said that for as smart as he was, that was how oblivious he was at times, and he had a point there. Brian should have known this could happen. Why did this person have to go and tag him _and_ Freddie? Now he would see, too.

Brian looked at the comments section, the anxiety in his chest maybe loosened a little, because there were people unhappy with the post. There were some comments openly wondering what it all meant, but a few were angry:

_“lol dude you need to get a hobby”_

_“Umm maybe they’re just friends??”_

_“You shouldn’t be digging into people’s lives like this”_

_“This post is creepy tbh. Leave them alone? Not everything has to be gay, god”_

(Brian imagined Freddie saying something like, _“Of course everything has to be gay!”)_

He exhaled slowly. Maybe nothing would come of this post and he should just relax. There was no need to panic. It was like the occasional negative comment on his videos--better to ignore it. Acknowledging the post by commenting or liking anything would definitely draw more attention to the screenshots and make things worse. He didn’t know how many notifications Freddie received, so it was possible he wouldn’t even see the post. Yeah. He should calm down. He just had to be more careful about liking posts in the future.

And Brian was so wrapped up in things that his mind completely glossed over the part about Freddie liking all of his selfies, too, because Roger was right about his tendency to be just a little bit boneheaded.

Regardless, Brian’s intent to ignore the attention they were receiving was ruined by the internet, yet again, a few days later. Brian was lying on his bed and scrolling through his phone, having hit a wall in creativity. It was Sunday and he had nothing to do, so he intended to do a whole lot of nothing, until he saw that John was live on Instagram.

Brian was interested, since John posted less than other content creators and appeared a little more reserved than the average YouTuber and Instagram influencer (were they all influencers? God, these terms made Brian’s head hurt).

He clicked on the livestream.

John was there, sitting on the floor against his bed, his bass loosely held in his arms, with a small smile on his face. Ten thousand people were watching live, and comments came and went quickly. The username of each new person to the stream came up, too.

“No, I didn't play when I was a kid,” John was saying to the chat. “I always liked music, but didn’t pick up an instrument until high school. I’m in school for electronics, not music, and I’ve always liked tinkering with things.”

 _Huh. He must be smart,_ Brian thought. An electrician bassist. That made more sense than an astrophysicist guitarist, he supposed, or a dental student drummer.

A couple of people in the chat must have noticed Brian’s username, because they were announcing his arrival.

Brian froze. Damn. Should he leave? That might be obvious. Maybe John wouldn’t see—

“Oh, Brian May’s here?” John asked, tone rising with intrigue.

Brian stared at the ceiling in anguish. Why him?

“Hello, Brian,” he smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Love your channel.”

Brian sighed. His father taught him to be polite, and ignoring a compliment was rude. He typed out a quick _“thank you!”_

There were now some comments greeting Brian, and one asked if he and John knew each other.

“Do Brian and I know each other? No,” John said. “But I think we sort of found each other’s stuff recently. Respect from afar, you know?”

Brian smiled. This was the first time he heard John talk, truly, and he liked him already.

 _“Definitely respect from afar,”_ Brian commented.

John saw his comment and read it aloud for the rest of the viewers. “Yeah,” he smiled wider. “If you all haven’t seen Brian’s videos yet, you really should. And his mate, Roger.”

A voice came in from off-camera, breaking the light mood. “Brian?” it asked hesitantly. 

John turned his head to the left, looking off-screen.

“Brian May?” came the quiet voice again.

“Yeah,” John answered.

 _That voice._ Brian spent so much time over the past several weeks listening to that voice, even if its speaking form appeared only at the beginning of videos. His heart was in his throat. _Freddie?_

“Why are you talking about Brian to your phone?” Freddie asked, sounding puzzled.

Brian was listening intently. Being talked about like this gave him a weird feeling in his chest.

“I’m livestreaming,” John explained, “and he’s in my chat.”

“Brian May is watching you?” Freddie asked quickly, sounding surprised.

Something about hearing his name spoken by Freddie’s soft speaking voice made Brian’s stomach do a flip.

“Yeah,” John said casually. “Why don’t you come here and say hi? At least step out of the doorway.”

“No!” Freddie hissed. “Are you mad? I look hideous, darling.”

John rolled his eyes. “No you don’t, drama queen. Just say hi already.”

The flurry of comments in the chat was a combination of hearts, people asking if it was Freddie, people begging John to get Freddie to appear, and some saying Freddie and Brian meeting would be a better crossover event than a Marvel movie.

Brian just stared at the screen, feeling weirdly helpless to what was going on.

“No!” Freddie said again. “I don’t look presentable. I can’t be seen in my bloody pajamas by Br—by your followers.”

Brian’s mind conjured up a picture of Freddie in loose pajamas, and thought he was probably cute as a button. 

“Well, I’m sure they can all _hear_ you from there,” John pointed out. 

There was a pause, and then the sound of quick, retreating footsteps.

John sighed and turned back to the camera. “Sorry about that, everyone. You probably heard, but that was Freddie. He’s fine, but he gets in his moods sometimes. He hasn’t had his first cuppa of the day yet,” he joked.

The comments were coming in fast now, and were difficult to keep up with. John’s eyes darted across the screen, trying to read. “What? No, Freddie doesn’t know Brian, either,” he said. “He just likes his stuff. Um, listen, I was actually waiting for Freddie to get up, anyway, so I’m gonna go now, okay? Sorry I didn’t get to play more, but it was great talking with you all,” he said with a crinkly smile again, but there was something a little forced about it. “I’m going to practice with Freddie now. Bye, all. Bye, Brian.”

The stream ended.

Brian put his phone down on the mattress. He blinked at the ceiling. What was that? He didn’t know John, but the end of the stream was pretty abrupt, and only happened after it sounded like Freddie quickly retreated--even ran--from the room. Freddie oozed confidence in his videos, but it was like he ran away from the possibility of anyone seeing him be candid on John’s stream. What he said…

_“I can’t be seen in my bloody pajamas by Br—”_

Was...was he about to say his name? 

No. Brian was reading too much into it. Maybe he was getting stressed from school again, but his brain decided to turn against him and see the worst in this situation—it was one of the things it did best. He was so bloody hung up over, what, two internet comments in total? Freddie advertised that he was as gay as a daffodil on his public profile. His flirtations were part of his schtick, his sense of humor. It probably meant nothing to him (he probably left similar comments on other artists’ posts), but it meant too much to Brian, who hadn’t had a date since god knows when. Today was probably just a bad day for Freddie and his actions didn’t indicate anything else. If he really wanted to talk to Brian, he would have changed to be presentable on stream. But he didn’t even call out to Brian, not even a friendly, _“Hello!”_ from off-screen.

“He doesn’t give a damn about you,” he whispered to himself, face screwed up in a scowl. “Stop this, you loon.” Freddie would most likely think he was a stalker if he knew how much Brian thought about him. He rolled over onto his side, away from his phone, his chest hurting. So many emotions were swirling inside of him, the strongest being anger that he was lying here feeling any of this at all. Brian fell hard and fell often—for the girl in his biology class in his first year, for the barista at the Starbucks on campus—but it never led anywhere serious. He always felt like something was missing from his relationships, and even he could see it was crazy to think Freddie was the one he’d been subconsciously searching for. _We don’t know each other,_ he mentally repeated.

And yet, when Freddie posted a new video the next day, making no mention of John’s stream in it or on his Instagram story, Brian was quick to let that gifted voice curl into his ears and fill his head with soft melodies, and let those dark eyes stare into his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments on last chapter! I hope you liked this one, too. Next chapter, Freddie and Brian will interact more~


	3. Chapter 3

The next day, an innocuous video on John’s account caused trouble. Not the video itself, in truth, but what someone would do with it.

It was a video of Freddie in a pet shop with John behind the camera. He was standing in front of glass, with several cats playing in a room behind it. His eyes were huge and he was absolutely delighted.

“We came in to buy cat food,” John muttered to the camera. “But Freddie got distracted.”

“Look at these sweeties,” Freddie breathed. “They’re all so _beautiful.”_

(Brian felt his chest grow warm at this part, because Freddie was nothing short of adorable.)

“We’re not getting another one,” John said firmly.

Freddie’s plump lower lip stuck out in a pout. “Deacy,” he protested.

“No. We’ve got enough.”

The pout grew bigger, his eyes pleading.

(Crap, those eyes would work on Brian in a second.)

“Nope,” John resisted perfectly. “When you’re famous, you can get a mansion with seven cats.”

Freddie’s face lit up with mirth and he laughed, throwing his head back. “You know it!” he said, and the video ended.

It was a simple video.

Why someone decided to make trouble out of _that_ one, who knows?

Since Brian followed Freddie and John, Instagram would recommend posts tagged with their names. Brian didn’t always look at them (he did have _some_ interests outside of Freddie), but a post caught his eye as he scrolled through his feed in boredom. It was a screenshot from the video in the pet store of Freddie laughing. His eyes were bright and his smile was huge, and Brian had a smile of his own. Freddie had a certain sly smile in his videos, but this one felt more genuine, caused by a friend and not to please an audience.

Then, Brian scrolled down to the caption.

_“Lol ew. He looks like a donkey.”_

Brian was shocked and instantly, his blood boiled. “What?!” he exclaimed out loud.

“What’s wrong?” Roger called from the kitchen.

Anger overriding his thoughts, he shot up from the sofa and marched over to Roger. “Some arsehole posted this about Freddie! Um, HisMajestyMercury, you know.”

Roger looked at the screen and scowled. “That’s fucking rude.”

“Yeah!” Brian took the phone back, anger bubbling in his veins. “That’s so—unnecessary! Why even do that?”

“‘Cause people suck,” he said.

Brian was shooting daggers at his phone screen. _“Lol”_ the arsehole said, like mocking a stranger’s appearance was so hilarious. It was ridiculous, too, because Freddie’s smile was nothing short of contagious. His teeth may have protruded more than the average person’s, but that didn’t mean he looked like a bloody donkey!

“Uh, mate? You look like you’re gonna throw your phone at the wall,” Roger said.

Brian took a deep breath, but it did nothing to cool him down. Who did this person think they were, to randomly mock someone’s smile? He—he had to tell them off. “I’ll tell them,” he grumbled, and scrolled down to start typing.

“Don’t get into internet drama,” Roger warned.

“I’m not,” he said. “I’m only telling this bitchy worm to fuck off,” he said as he typed.

Roger snorted. “Bitchy worm? Yeah, doesn’t sound like you’re gettin’ into drama at all,” he mused.

Brian typed rapidly, and posted his comment:

_“Were you raised in a barn? Who taught you to behave so rudely? You wouldn’t like it if someone made a negative post about YOUR appearance, Mr. Supermodel. -Bri”_

When he’d scrolled down, he’d seen that the other comments were negative, too.

_“Seriously? Leave Freddie alone ffs”_

_“Y’all are demons.”_

_“Fuck you bitch”_

_“This is bullying! >:(“ _

Most were like that, but there was one that was several laughing emojis.

Brian replied to that comment: _“Piss off. -Bri.”_

Roger was amused, but a little baffled. “You’re still typing? It was a shit thing to do, but you don’t have to defend him. We don’t even know him.”

That stung because it was true. Brian ignored that part and put his phone in his pocket. “All done, see?” 

Roger looked at him skeptically, but didn’t say anything else.

Brian felt his phone buzzing in his pocket as he tutored that afternoon. He wasn’t about to set a bad example for these kids, who were glued to their phones enough as it was (thought the YouTube star), so he ignored it and suffered through explaining this chapter’s lesson for what felt like the tenth time. The kids were nice, but he didn’t think he had the patience to be a teacher for life. He might get roped into teaching at the university level at some point after he got his PhD, though. Would uni students be better? He didn’t know. At times, he wished he could just play his guitar for a living. He knew Roger wished the same thing with drums, but it wasn’t like the two of them could start a band with a guitar and drum set alone.

For now, tutoring helped pay the bills, and that was what mattered, he remembered as he waved goodbye to the students for the day. At least he wasn’t a primary school teacher. He might actually pull all of his hair out in that case.

Now that he had the time, he looked at Instagram and was pleased to see that several people liked his comments and replied in his favor.

_“Get ‘em, Bri!”_

_“Slaaay king”_

_“We STAN supportive friends! <3” _

_“Go Brian!”_

_“Brian’s right! Shut the fuck up OP”_

_“I was about to comment but Brian beat me to it lol”_

Brian smiled smugly. He was happy to see other people sticking up for Freddie. Since the person hadn’t tagged his account, Brian sincerely hoped Freddie wouldn’t see the post. Since this clown was told off, he’d be discouraged from making another post. Problem solved.

Wrong.

The next day, that same person posted a screenshot from one of Brian’s videos. Brian’s face was turned to the side as he looked down at his hands, revealing his side profile.

 _“Bird-nosed bitch @brianmayforreal”_ was the caption. Clearly, this person got pissed off by Brian’s response.

Brian was less angry at this comment—although he was certainly close to steaming—because it was directed at him and not a friend (or pseudo-friend). He couldn’t help but feel a little sad, though, because he never liked his nose much. On an intellectual level, he knew this person said something specifically to rile him up, but brushing it off was easier said than done. There was a reason why he tried to ignore negativity as much as possible.

Roger was quick to report the account when he found out. “Only _I’m_ allowed to make fun of you,” he said to Brian as he typed furiously. “This twat is going around posting shite about strangers? I’ll have his account fucking banned. ”

Brian hid his smile, flattered by Roger’s protectiveness. “Aren’t you getting involved in internet drama now?”

“No, because reporting someone is private,” he said. “No one will know it’s me.”

“Really?”

Roger rolled his eyes. “You’re the most clueless influencer ever.”

Brian didn’t respond and looked at the comments on the post instead. Most were telling off the account and calling Brian “gorgeous” and “beautiful.” That was nice, but then he saw some comments agreeing with the post, and he sunk down into the sofa. He put his phone on the coffee table. “I think I need to stay off this app,” he mumbled, feeling glum.

“Don’t respond to it,” Roger said, still typing on his phone. “Just post your videos like you always do and act like nothing happened. Don’t let some random wanker get attention online.”

Brian, not for the first time in his life, wished he had Roger’s self-assurance. “I’ll try,” he said.

Roger ruffled his curls, smirking when Brian batted him away and immediately started to fix his hair.

Roger finished reporting the account and put his phone away. “Remember that you started posting for the music, not the social media bollocks.”

“You’re right,” he conceded, wincing at his reflection, because he really had gotten way more involved in social media itself than he ever wanted. 

He slid off the sofa, standing up and stretching. “So are you gonna ask me to help you out with that space song, or were you waiting for me to read your mind?”

Brian turned to him with a glare. “What did I tell you about going through my music?”

Roger gave him a sunny grin.

Brian huffed moodily. “It’s almost finished, but not quite. I’ll let you know when it is.” He paused. “I’ve been working on something else, though.”

Roger cracked his knuckles, loosening up his hands to get ready to play. “Let’s go.”

Despite his annoyance, Brian felt himself ease up a little as he and Roger played, because when they weren’t bickering, they did make magic. They clicked from that first moment in band class in high school. It took all day, but they wound up recording a video for the newly-named “Good Company.” The other song he was working on, “’39”, didn’t feel complete yet, and as much as art could be an outlet, he wanted to get away from the weird feeling of social media being another world. Besides, he didn’t play ukulele often, and it was fun.

“Just sing the lead,” Roger said. “You know you’re a decent singer.”

“I’m not great, though,” he said, shifting in his seat.

“You’re fine,” Roger waved a hand at him. “You worry too much.”

“Story of my life,” Brian sighed.

Roger stuck his tongue out playfully, and Brian felt himself brighten up a little. They went through the song together a few times until they felt comfortable enough with it to start recording. He did sing the song, with Roger keeping the beat at his drum kit. They sounded good together, and Brian sang as best as he could.

They finished the song by dinner time, both in a good mood.

“It’s a nice song, Bri,” Roger said.

Brian flushed a little, because Roger never gave out compliments on music unless he meant them. “Thanks, Rog.” He spent the rest of the day editing the video and posting it. It was weird listening to his own voice so much, but he hoped it was all right. It wasn’t the first time he sang on his channel, anyway. Once the upload was finished, Brian stretched and yawned. He was tired, but felt pretty good. He was proud of “Good Company”, even if it wasn’t his usual style.

His good mood lasted for the next couple of days, with his mind more focused on music than drama, and people seemed to like the song. It got more views because Roger was in it, so some of the comments were just saying how hot Roger was, but most of them were saying how catchy the song was or how unexpectedly bleak the lyrics were at the end. Brian’s songs did have a running theme of melancholy through them. He wondered what a therapist would say about his work. 

It was late and Brian was just about to go to bed when he decided to check Instagram one more time until tomorrow. There was a little red notification that he got a message. He had his account set so only people he followed could message him without needing his approval. Curious, he went to his messages, and suddenly felt very awake.

It was Freddie. 

What would he want to tell Brian late at night? Did he see the hate post against him and Brian’s comments? Was he going to confront Brian and ask why he got so defensive when they didn’t know each other? As much as Brian wanted to go to bed and deal with it in the morning, his mind wouldn’t rest until he knew what Freddie said. He opened the message.

freddie.mercury: _“Hello Brian! I was watching Good Company and it was lovely. You and Roger play together very well, smart lyrics, great guitar work—the usual I’ve come to expect from you and blondie. But dearie, you two have no stage presence! Where’s the glitz and glam?? It’d do you and your videos well~”_

Brian read the message twice, not sure what to feel. He was relieved that it wasn’t what he thought at all (maybe Freddie didn’t know about the post, after all). The message was definitely a compliment, but criticism, too. He felt good having Freddie praise the song (and say he had come to expect good music from him), but Brian never considered his stage presence. He wasn’t even performing on a stage; it was in his bedroom. He let the music speak for itself, as did Roger, and they both got a substantial following. 

Still, Freddie managed to have a stage presence just by looking into the camera. His videos were as low budget as theirs, but Freddie acted like a star in his content, and that was definitely something Brian never did. Freddie even wore eyeliner in some videos.

He sat in his bed, trying to think of a reply. Freddie actually reached out and talked to him. He had to say something. Despite his confusion, he did want to hear what Freddie had to say about his content. He briefly wondered if he should ask if Freddie knew about the hate post, but no, that wouldn’t be a good idea, especially since it would do nothing but instantly bring down the mood, and Brian didn’t want their first conversation to go badly.

brianmayforreal: _“Hello. I’m glad to hear that you liked the song! Thank you. But, what exactly do you mean by 'stage presence'? I thought Roger and I were getting along fine with what we were doing. What do you have in mind?”_

He thought of turning his phone off for the night and going to bed, but he knew himself better than to think he’d be able to sleep now.

_“freddie.mercury is typing…”_

Brian released a breath from his mouth. _Calm down,_ he told himself. _He’s just a bloke on the internet. No need to be nervous._

freddie.mercury: _“Your videos are great—which is why you two should strive for *excellence* because you can achieve it. You’ve got the right stuff. You’ve got an audience, so give them a show! You’re very camera-shy, you know.”_

Brian yet again didn’t entirely know what to make of the message, but there was one thing he agreed with.

brianmayforreal: _“You’re right, I am camera-shy. I don’t like being in front of the camera, but I want people to hear my music, so I grit my teeth and get through it. Roger is less bothered by the camera.”_

freddie.mercury: _“Yes, Roger looks at ease as he plays—but he could lose those sunglasses. It’s a bit silly when you’re indoors. And in a bedroom at that.”_

Brian laughed out loud and quickly typed:

brianmayforreal: _“I know! I’ve told him that, but he just flipped me off and said he knows more about being a star than I do.”_

freddie.mercury: _“Perhaps he may, darling, but he’s still foolish in those shades. Nevertheless, your uni jumpers might look cute on you, but they’re hardly the height of fashion.”_

Brain couldn’t feel offended because he was still rather surprised by this whole exchange, and resolutely telling himself that Freddie was _not_ flirting with him. Besides, Brian never thought he was a fashionista. He was lucky if he looked presentable while running on the adrenaline from caffeine, stress, and no sleep. But it was YouTube, and it felt silly to dress up for the camera. It wasn’t like he was a real rock star.

brianmayforreal: _“You’re not wrong, Freddie, but it’s just YouTube. I’m not going to go out of my way for my shitty webcam.”_

freddie.mercury: “ _It’s YouTube, but that’s not a reason to settle for second-best.”_

Brian didn’t have a response.

brianmayforreal: _“What about your friend, John? He wears average clothes in his videos.”_

freddie.mercury: _“Oh PLEASE, it’s an argument we have nearly every day.”_

Brain giggled at his phone screen.

Freddie kept typing.

freddie.mercury: _“Regardless of the abysmal fashion choices of my dear Deacy, I see so much potential in your videos, Brian, that I wish you would pounce on it.”_

 _“And Roger’s vids too”_ was added a moment later.

This was the first conversation he had with Freddie, and yet Brian was at a loss for words more than once. What did Freddie see in him—them—that made him sound so insistent? Thinking through his response, he said:

brianmayforreal: _“I appreciate your honesty, Freddie, and that you’ve considered my content enough to have both praise and suggestions on how to improve. However, I’m hesitant to make any changes. If it’s not broke, don’t fix it, you know? Plus, this is only a hobby.”_

Freddie began typing, stopped, and then started again.

freddie.mercury: _“Wait—you’re not pursuing music professionally?”_

brianmayforreal: _“No, I’m in school for astrophysics.”_

freddie.mercury: _“Are you serious? Brian! :O You can’t waste your talent doing……...ok I don’t know what an astrophysicist actually DOES but you should be a musician!! What about Roger? Don’t tell me he’s secretly into botany or something.”_

Brian was laughing out loud again.

brianmayforreal: _“No, biology. He’s becoming a dentist.”_

freddie.mercury: _“........”_

_“.”_

_“.................”_

_“You book nerds would fit right in with my Deacy.”_

If it were anyone else, Brian might have gotten a tad insulted, but Freddie was so blunt that he found himself laughing again. Roger would be incredibly indignant if anyone called him a nerd, party boy that he was. Brian liked drinking every so often, but he could admit he was kind of a dork.

brianmayforreal: _“And what does John do?”_

freddie.mercury: _“Electronics. He’s made his own amp.”_

Brian was impressed.

brianmayforreal: _“Wow, he must be good at what he does. I don’t know much about electronics, but my dad helped me build my guitar.”_

freddie.mercury: _“!!!! You BUILT that red guitar?!!”_

brianmayforreal: _“...Yes?”_

freddie.mercury: _“Tell me more!! How did you do it? How long did it take?”_

Pleased by his seemingly genuine enthusiasm, Brian began to give a shortened version of the story of the Red Special. Freddie asked several follow-up questions, excited and intrigued, and Brian answered them. It was tedious typing out long answers on a touchscreen, and his eyes began to hurt from looking at the screen too long. He didn’t stop, though.

By the end of the conversation, Freddie said:

freddie.mercury: _“That really is spectacular, dear. I wouldn’t know where to begin with building an instrument.”_

Brian flushed and was glad no one was around to see it.

brianmayforreal: _“Thank you, Freddie. And thanks for being interested in what I do. It means a lot, coming from someone like you.”_

freddie.mercury: _“You make me blush ;)”_

Brian’s own blush deepened, and his mind conjured up an image of scarlet painted on Freddie’s cheeks and his dark eyelashes fluttering up at Brian. _Don’t think of him like that when you’re talking to him._

Freddie typed again.

freddie.mercury: _“I would love to keep chatting, but you must have class in a few hours, yes?”_

Brian blinked hard and finally looked at the time. It was past 2 in the morning. When the fuck did that happen?! It was 11 just a minute ago!

brianmayforreal: _“SHIT I didn’t realise how late it got!”_

freddie.mercury: _“Sorry, I shouldn’t have kept you up.”_

brianmayforreal: _“No, I should’ve kept track of the time. You’re fine. I’ve really got to go now, though. It was very nice talking to you.”_

freddie.mercury: _“Indeed it was. Sweet dreams xoxoxo”_

* * *

Brian felt like absolute hell when his alarm rang four hours later, and he felt dead all day as his eyes struggled to stay open, or teared up as he stifled another yawn behind his fist when he tutored his students. He had to drink two cups of coffee to stay awake during class, and unwillingly crashed when he got home. He had to wrestle Roger’s phone away from him when he snapped a picture of Brian slumped over the kitchen table, long arm hanging off the side, and drooling on his textbook.

“Fine, I’ll delete it!” Roger gave in, taking his phone back. “It’s not like I was gonna post it,” he grumbled to the screen. “You just look funny when you’re passed out like that.”

Brian crossed his arms over his chest self-consciously. “Not in the mood,” he said in exasperation, exhaustion tugging at his limbs. “Next time you wanna be an arse and take a picture of me, turn the bloody flash off.”

After a moment, Roger turned his phone around with his camera roll on screen. “Gone. See?”

Brian nodded, rubbing his eye.

Roger put his phone away. “Why’re you extra tired today, anyway?”

Brian turned away and walked over to the table to collect his textbook and notebook. “I was up texting last night.”

Roger’s tone immediately brightened. “Were you texting that person? Your crush?”

Brian still didn’t want to tell him who it was, because one conversation with Freddie didn’t mean they actually had anything. “How’d you know?” he mumbled.

“Lucky guess.” Roger nudged his elbow. “What happened to holding off on talking to him until the semester’s over?”

Brian held back a smile. “Actually, he messaged me first.”

“Ohh, plot twist,” he teased. “Are you finally going to tell me more about him?”

“No.”

“What?!” Roger threw up his hands.

He snorted. “Not yet, Rog. Not unless I know it’s going anywhere.”

He huffed a frustrated sigh, but looked Brian up and down. “You must really like this one, then, because usually all of you tell people when you’re hung up over someone. You’re acting differently this time.”

Brian held his book in his hands with a shrug. It was true that he liked Freddie more than anyone else, but it was different because this was the first man he ever wanted to pursue a relationship with, too. “It’s different ‘cause I’ve never been with a man,” he said slowly, still feeling a little weird talking about this with anyone. “Uncharted waters, in a way.”

Roger thought about it. “I suppose that makes sense, but I know you; you could be overthinking it.”

Brian laughed. “You’ve no idea.”

Roger pointed at him and wiggled his finger. “I’ll find out who it is sometime, Bri.”

“Probably,” he admitted.

Even though he was exhausted today and Roger took an embarrassing photo, the little _“xoxoxo”_ was worth staying up with Freddie. The whole interaction was worth it. He actually talked to Freddie, and he was...perhaps a touch pushy, and he clearly thought a lot of himself as a content creator, but who could possibly blame him? He had the stuff to back it up. He was engaged when Brian told him about the making of the Red Special, and he wanted to help him and Roger make their content even better, in his own way. Conversation flowed so easily between them, and Brian wanted to talk to Freddie again. 

_Would_ they talk again? He didn’t know, because he hadn’t even expected to have a real conversation with him in the first place. He didn’t want to initiate another conversation, though. He was always so bad at that. A lot of people had an easier time starting a conversation online and through text, but his anxiety got the better of him every time. Realistically, they probably wouldn’t have many more conversations—just some friendly comments and likes here and there, maybe. Brian just hoped there wouldn’t be any more hate posts against either of them. The posts were bad enough on their own, but he hated the thought of Freddie getting upset because some wanker said something nasty about his teeth. He didn’t deserve that. He was gorgeous and talented, and was excitable and kind in the messages last night, and, and...

Brian was even more hooked now. Damn it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayyy they finally talked lol. Thanks for reading, I'm having a lot of fun writing this. More drama next chapter :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, 100 kudos! Thank you all :) I really enjoy writing this

Another little incident happened, but Brian didn’t catch it live. He watched the video after, and he was glad he didn’t join the livestream since he came up. If his username had been seen in the chat, it might have caused a scene.

John was streaming again and this time Freddie was with him, fully dressed with a hint of eyeliner. They were sitting next to each other on a sofa, answering questions while waiting for Indian takeaway to arrive, according to John. The stream wasn’t very long, and the questions were random.

“We met in primary school,” Freddie answered one of the questions with a relaxed smile. “Actually, John introduced himself to me.”

“He looked lonely,” John shrugged to the camera.

Freddie ducked his head a little. “School was dull,” he said vaguely.

“Freddie always liked drawing in his notebook rather than actually taking notes,” John said.

“I admit that easily,” he said. “Art was my calling before music.”

Several comments were going by, and one asked what other YouTubers that Freddie and John liked.

“George Michael!” Freddie exclaimed.

“Yeah, he’s good,” John nodded. “Roger Taylor and Brian May, of course.”

“Of course,” Freddie agreed.

A comment asked: _“what about the Sex Pistols?”_

“Oh,” Freddie rolled his eyes. “The Sex Pistols,” he said with disinterest.

John made a face, but didn’t elaborate.

Freddie did it for him. “Sid Vicious can’t sing,” he said bluntly. “He and his little friends are rather ridiculous, actually. Their music is just a whole lot of noise.”

John pressed his lips together. “Careful, you’ll anger their fans.”

“I’m not afraid of anyone on the internet,” he raised his nose haughtily. “I don’t know why anyone’s subscribed to them.”

There were comments laughing at how brutally honest Freddie was, a few protesting that the Sex Pistols were good, but none of the comments were particularly angry.

John nudged him. “Freddie,” he chastised.

He smirked. “I’m not trying to start a fight. I’m only saying what I think, and I think they’re not worth my time.”

 _“Soooo Freddie’s not a Sid fan lol”_ said one comment.

Another one said, _“but he DOES like Brian…”_

The next comment that came up caught their attention:

_“So are Freddy and Brian May fuckin or what”_

John’s eyebrows raised. “Oh, um. Fred…”

Freddie rolled his eyes dramatically. “Yes, dearie, I’m regularly fucked by a man I’ve never met. Brilliant question from someone who can’t spell my name,” he said dryly.

John snorted. “You’ve never even been in the same room with him.”

“I don’t even know where he’s from!” Freddie said. “He’s from England, going by his accent, but that doesn’t narrow it down at all.” He locked eyes with the camera. “If you’re going to start rumors, don’t _bore_ me with ones so easily proven false. Make it exciting, like, I’m secretly best friends with the Queen or something.”

“You say that like you don’t wish that were true,” John said.

“She’s got wonderful fashion sense,” he said defensively.

“She’s also close to 100.”

Freddie looked scandalized. “I think you’re committing treason right now, Deacy.”

John laughed, the corner of his eyes crinkling, and then there was a knock off-screen.

“Finally!” Freddie shot up from the sofa.

“That’s our food,” John told the audience. “So we’ve got to go now.” He looked away, probably towards the door, and looked back at the camera with a sternness in his eye. “Next time, don’t talk crap about my friend, yeah?” 

The live stream ended.

When Brian saw the whole video, he was glad to see that Freddie had a good friend in his life to defend him from online imbeciles, and John was actually a little scary at the end. He wouldn’t want to get on his bad side. Nevertheless, Brian was nervous because it felt like more people were picking up on his crush, although Freddie didn’t seem fazed by it at all (which...made him a little disappointed, in a way). Freddie didn’t even message Brian to tell him about the troublesome comment, so he must not have thought much of it. Perhaps he had thicker skin than Brian. Actually, that was likely. Brian had stumbled his way to hundreds of thousands of subscribers, but he was too sensitive for constant attention, the negative voice in his head always ready to pounce and focus on the bad things people said about him instead of the good. It felt too late to shut down his channel, though, and it would be ridiculous to do so over something relatively small like this.

But Freddie didn’t seem anything but casually annoyed at what people said about them, although Brian still wondered if he saw the post about his teeth.

As he sat at the kitchen table in thought, Roger strolled in from his room. “D’you know you’re shagging Freddie Mercury, according to someone online?”

If Brian didn’t already know what he was talking about, he probably would have burst into flames. “Apparently,” he said wearily. “You saw John’s live stream, I take it?”

“Yeah, I just watched it. I’m not surprised, though. The internet’s horny.”

A flicker of a smile. “I know. But people shouldn’t just say that to him. It’s crossing a boundary, to say that to someone you don’t know.”

“I agree, but it’s just one arsehole who said it.”

Brian remembered previous comments. “Not...exactly. Here and there, I’ve seen people say we’d be—good together.” He hoped he wasn’t blushing (it felt so weird to be embarrassed around Roger, of all people). “I don’t know where they’re getting it,” he said quickly.

Roger shrugged. “Like I said, they’re all horny. But hey, it seems like most people aren’t saying it, and there are worse rumors out there. He is pretty cute.”

Brian was _not_ about to agree, so instead he joked, “Will there be a second coming-out in this flat?”

“No!” he laughed. “I’m just saying. I don’t have to fancy him to see he’s good-looking.”

“I suppose,” he said enigmatically.

“Besides, Freddie set the record straight by telling everyone you’ve never met. Unless you go for sex over Skype,” he winked.

“I’m gonna kill you,” he mumbled.

“Don’t sweat it,” he ignored him. “Freddie handled it well, anyway.”

That was true.

Brian was so focused on the bit in the live stream concerning him that it didn’t register that John was absolutely right; Freddie’s comment awakened the fury of Sex Pistols stans.

Their fans flooded Freddie’s videos with angry comments, and they tweeted their rage while tagging his name. The only reason why Brian found out about it was because people began to talk about him, too.

 _“Can’t believe #freddiemercury is stupid enough to say #brianmay is better than Sid FUCKING Vicious lmaaaaooo”_ one tweet said, and others had a similar sentiment. 

_“Lol that ugly curly fuck doesn’t have shit on Sid”_ was a reply to that tweet.

Brian only had a twitter account to post links to his new YouTube videos, and now he _really_ regretted making an account because his notifications were a mess of people like that, and other people tagging him in defensive comments. This time, the positive comments from his fans didn’t outweigh the people mocking his long nose and mess of hair and deriding his playing. It was all descending upon his shoulders.

 _I didn’t even try to get involved this time,_ he thought in irritation. He ignored everything for a few days as best as he could, even though the few insults that he saw were replaying on a loop in his head. He tried to tell himself that the people talking negatively about him only did so because Freddie praised him a minute before trashing the Sex Pistols. They probably never even watched his content, and were less hateful of him and more defensive of their favorite band. _Focus on your students, focus on your studies,_ he kept repeating to himself. 

The drama might have died down after a week or so, if Sid Vicious didn’t get involved. Brian didn’t care about him or the Sex Pistols before this, but now he hated them.

Sid posted text to his Instagram story: _“I just heard someone has my name in their mouth. @ Freddie Pluto, when ur done with the eyeliner and nail polish maybe start making some REAL music instead of trying to bring ballet to the masses.”_

Freddie merely took a screenshot of the story, added it to his own, and wrote: _“What are you going to do if I don’t, Simon Ferocious?”_

Brian raised his fist in a little cheer on his lunch break. _Tell him, Freddie!_

Soon after, Freddie posted a rare selfie. It was a picture of him from the side, the wing of his eyeliner larger and darker than usual, and he was blowing on his nails with a bottle of black polish on the table in front of him, a cheeky nod to Sid’s jab at him. The caption was only a wink.

Brian liked the photo immediately in support, and because Freddie looked particularly beautiful there. Before Freddie, he didn’t know a man could look so handsome and pretty at the same time. He didn’t allow himself to stare at boys before, but he couldn’t look away from Freddie. Brian’s heart fluttered.

And then his blood boiled.

One of the top comments was, most likely, from a Sid stan. _“You sure do love blowing, huh, you_ — _”_

Brian’s brain whited out in fury when he read the next word, a homophobic slur, and his fingers were typing before he knew it. _“Really? Was this in any way necessary? It’s the year 2020 and you’re using slurs like a simpleton. You’re nothing but a pathetic pile of rubbish. -Brian”_

To his relief, the other people replying to that comment had a similar tone, but there were other negative comments under Freddie’s photo and Brian couldn’t possibly tell them all to fuck off without being there all day. That, in combination with the negativity being thrown at him (and now Roger, since he was mentioned, too), meant that Brian got even less sleep than usual the past couple days, and he felt horrible. He was really unsettled by this. Why did people have to turn to bigotry? Freddie was brave for declaring his sexuality so casually on his public account, and this was how people acted.

He posted to his story: _“People on the internet have way too much to say and can’t disagree with someone’s opinion without resorting to childish, disgusting name-calling. Grow up.”_

A few people reshared it to their stories with supportive captions, but he was tagged in an Instagram post from that same person who made fun of his nose and Freddie’s teeth. (He forgot to block them; he was bad at social media, truthfully).

The post was a screenshot of his story with the caption: _“lmfao he wants to suck @freddie.mercury’s dick so bad”_ and the eggplant and water droplets emojis.

Brian’s face turned white, and his shaking fingers simply typed out: _“blocked!”_ and he actually did it this time. He put his phone in his pocket, hands still trembling. He should be studying now, but instead he felt on the brink of a panic attack. Freddie was tagged in that post. What if he saw the caption, and began piecing things together? Brian commented in his defense directly on his post, too, so he probably saw a notification for that. This was all happening so fast, and Brian couldn’t calm his pulse or focus on any of his notes.

Roger took one look at him when he got home from class. “Spending too much time on your phone again?”

“How are you not bothered by this?” he snapped. 

“Because I know I didn’t do anything wrong,” he answered, putting his bag down and toeing off his shoes. “I was dragged into this because John mentioned me and you a second before Freddie stirred the pot. It’s not my problem if Sex Pistols fans are as moronic as Sid Vicious.”

Brian couldn’t understand how he could be so calm. “But the fact that you didn’t do anything wrong makes it even worse that people are saying things.”

“Anyone who’s not an idiot won’t engage in it. I have actual problems to worry about, and so do you,” he said pointedly.

Brian squirmed on the sofa at his tone, and his nerves were too frazzled for this. “I can do what I want. You’re not my mum.”

“No, you’re just my brooding flat mate,” Roger narrowed his eyes. “I thought you were too smart so get riled up over social media.”

His lip twitched. “I’m not stupid for being bothered by my notifications being blown up by insults.”

“Then turn them off!” he told him. “It’s not real life, Brian. None of these people know you so what they say doesn’t matter. You’ve been getting lost in your phone for weeks now, and where’s that gotten you? You look so bad that if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were sick.”

That piled on top of comments he saw mocking his appearance, so anger ignited in his veins and he shot up from the sofa. “Fuck off,” he growled and started stalking towards his room.

“Oh, great, here he goes,” Roger said to himself in annoyance. “Class all day and immediately I come home to this bollocks.”

Brian slammed his door shut and slid down the wall. He sat on the floor with his knees pulled up to his chest. His whole body was trembling, and he put his hands over his eyes. He knew Roger was right, and he felt extra pathetic for getting like this and getting into a fight because of the internet. He was shaking over social media. This wasn’t healthy. His dad would berate him. 

He sat there for some time, trying to stop shaking to no avail, and then his phone vibrated in his pocket. He shouldn’t look. He did anyway.

Freddie messaged him.

Brian’s heart beat so quickly that he felt sick.

freddie.mercury: _“Brian, we need to talk.”_

_freddie.mercury is typing_

Brian held his breath, anxiety tingling in his chest.

freddie.mercury: _“I want to apologise. I didn’t anticipate my comments about another YouTuber would come back to hurt you in any way, but that was my fault. I’m sure I don’t need to clarify what I mean.”_

Brian was so baffled that he forgot to be nervous.

brianmayforreal: _“What? Freddie, you don’t need to apologise for anything. People being arseholes isn’t your fault.”_ He was shocked he even thought that.

freddie.mercury: _“Really? But I’ve seen a glimpse of the nonsense people have said about you—none of that would’ve happened if it weren’t for me.”_

brianmayforreal: _“I promise you’re fine. I wouldn’t have thought that what you said would cause this, either. I’m not going to blame you for others’ actions. The thought hadn’t crossed my mind.”_

freddie.mercury: _“Oh. Well. Thank you for being understanding.”_

That seemed like a stopping point for the conversation, but Brian wanted to keep talking to him. He needed someone right now.

brianmayforreal: _“Has John gotten hate from the whole thing?”_

freddie.mercury: _“Yes, but the only person who cares less about what the internet says about them than I do is John.”_

brianmayforreal: _“Maybe Roger would give him a run for his money.”_ It occurred to Brian that no one was as bothered by this as he was, and he felt worse. Not that he wanted others to feel badly, but it highlighted his ineptitude.

freddie.mercury: _“Speaking of which…”_

_freddie.mercury is typing_

_“You don’t have to defend me online, dear.”_

Brian hated this day so much. So Freddie did see everything. A humiliated flush stung his cheeks and he was grateful no one could see. It took him a moment to think of a response.

brianmayforreal: _“I know, I’m sorry. I have a difficult time keeping my mouth shut, especially when slurs are involved. If I feel like something is utterly wrong, I say something. It’s a bad habit.”_

freddie.mercury: _“It’s kind of you, darling, but I can handle myself—and you give these people more attention than they deserve.”_

brianmayforreal: _“You’re right. I’m sorry.”_ He was so foolish.

freddie.mercury: _“Do you always worry this much, darling?”_

Brian released a quivering sigh feeling fragile.

brianmayforreal: _“You’ve no idea.”_

freddie.mercury: _“How has social media not chewed you up and spit you out by now, you sweet thing?”_

Brian swallowed, shaking and resisting the urge to over share.

brianmayforreal: _“It’s starting to, I think.”_

Freddie began typing, stopped, and typed again.

freddie.mercury: _“...Are you handling this all right, Brian?”_

Brian squeezed his phone in his hand. _No. I can’t handle what people say about me, my major is consuming me, I like you way too much and the internet is starting to see it, and I just got in a fight with my best friend for no reason._

brianmayforreal: _“Yeah, totally, I’m fine.”_

freddie.mercury: _“You’re certain?”_

brianmayforreal: _“Yes. I’m only irritated by how stupid people are.”_

freddie.mercury: _“We’re of the same mind there. But I intend to ignore the whole affair from now on and post content as if it never happened. If we both do the same, people will shut the hell up eventually. The internet mob is always searching for the next YouTuber to cancel so they’ll move on.”_

brianmayforreal: _“Good idea. I’ll do the same.”_

freddie.mercury: _“Great. Take care, Bri <3” _

Brian experienced about seven different emotions, but he only typed out a little, _“You, too!”_ and closed the app. He folded his arms atop his knees and buried his face into them. He didn’t know what to make of Freddie, and was too fatigued to read into his messages. One thing, though, was that he made zero mention of people saying that Brian wanted to fuck him, so he must have written off all of that as typical internet hate. Brian’s secret was somewhat safe, and perhaps people really would forget about it if he took Freddie’s lead and acted like nothing happened.

None of this made him feel any better in the current moment, though. Once his body started up an anxiety attack, it was difficult to stop shaking and to breathe slowly and calmly. It had been awhile since he got this bad. What if he couldn’t calm down all night, went without sleep again, and had a panic attack in front of his students? 

His students.

At least one knew of his YouTube account. What if she told his class about all of the drama happening? That would be embarrassing and make them lose respect for him. He didn’t want his job to become unpleasant, considering how little money he and Roger had. He didn’t want to cause Roger more issues, after he snapped at him like a child.

Brian’s heart leapt into his throat when the door opened beside him, and his pulse kept hammering in his throat despite it only being Roger.

He held a plate in his hand with a grilled cheese sandwich on it. “When’s the last time you’ve eaten?” Roger asked.

Brian blinked blearily at him, disoriented upon realizing that the sun was setting now in his room. He didn’t have an answer, and he hadn’t noticed how empty and uneasy his stomach felt until now.

Roger looked a little miffed, but considerably less so compared to earlier. He put the plate on the small bedside table and walked to stand in front of Brian. He held out his hands. “Up. Come on.”

Brian wanted to say he wasn’t a child and could stand up himself, but he didn’t trust his wobbly legs. He silently took Roger’s hands and allowed himself to be pulled upright and led to the bed to sit down. The plate was pushed into his hands.

Roger crossed his arms over his chest, raising an expectant eyebrow.

Brian took a bite.

He nodded curtly, satisfied.

“You can’t use the stove,” Brian said when he swallowed the mouthful.

“No, but I can run to the diner a few blocks down.”

Brian looked down at the food. “Thanks,” he mumbled. He hated awkward silence.

Roger sighed deeply. “I’m saying this because you’re worrying me; you’ve got to stay off your phone for awhile.”

“I know,” he said. “I talked about it with Freddie, and we’re going to act like the whole thing never happened.”

“Freddie?” he asked curiously. “You actually talk to Freddie?”

Right, he hadn’t said that before. “Just a couple times. He messaged me to apologize, actually, because he said all the hate I’m getting is because of him.”

“It’s not his fault.”

“That’s what I told him.”

Roger hummed. “I saw you chew out that homophobe on his page.”

“I just couldn’t say nothing.”

“I get it, I do, but I think Freddie’s got the right approach with ignoring all of this.”

Brian declined to reply by taking another bite of the sandwich. His stomach was gradually starting to feel better. 

Roger looked like he wanted to say something, a tightness to his posture. “Keep being a guitarist, not a YouTuber,” he said. “There’s a difference.”

Brian only nodded silently. He was so drained, too wiped out to argue.

Roger unfolded his arms and pointed at the sandwich. “Eat that, and then get some sleep or else I’ll smother you with chloroform.” 

Brian tried to smile, although he wasn’t sure if it reached his eyes. “I’ll try.” He wanted to thank Roger more, for knowing he wasn’t okay and going out of his way to help even after Brian acted like an arse. They locked eyes for a quiet pause, and the crinkle in between Roger’s eyebrows smoothed out, indicating he understood. He always did. It was why their friendship survived so many petty fights.

Roger left his room, and Brian finished his food, trying not to think of anything in particular to give his mind a break. He felt a little more human now, and at some point he’d stopped shaking without his notice. He could study...or he could lie down and mentally tell the world to fuck off for the evening. That was a better idea. He’d gone enough hours merely on stress and caffeine that his body was shutting down whether he liked it or not, and he was finally able to find sleep.

Several disjointed dreams passed through his mind in slumber, but one stood out to be remembered in the morning.

Freddie was with him, in his room, brown eyes all warm and soft and gazing at Brian in a way that made his dream self nearly whimper with want. Freddie had his arms around his thin frame, his chin rested on a bony shoulder.

 _“You sweet thing,”_ he said, an echo of his real-life message. He brushed curls from his forehead. _“You must stop worrying, love.”_

 _“I try, but it’s so hard,”_ dream Brian admitted. _“You’ve been driving me mad, Freddie. I can’t stop thinking about you.”_

Dream Freddie didn’t say anything and pressed his lips to his temple.

Brian woke up with a deep, yearning ache in his chest. He stared at the ceiling for the remaining minutes he had before his alarm was set to go off. He was in so deep, regarding his online presence, but mostly his feelings. Why did Freddie have to call him those little terms of endearments so nonchalantly, like they meant nothing to him? (They probably didn’t.) Why did he have to be nice and apologize when he thought he caused Brian trouble? If only he were talented and gorgeous, but an arsehole, too, so Brian could get over him. He sat up and rubbed his face. He felt the roughness of emerging stubble but had no energy to shave this morning. He turned on his phone, and there was a notification in his emails. He was curious, because he rarely got emails to his non-school account.

_From: Freddie Mercury_

_To: Brian May_

_Brian,_

_Good morning, darling. I hope this doesn’t come across as creepy, but your email is visible on your YouTube account, and it’s much easier to send this type of file here rather than instagram. You should watch this video, so you can listen to your solos the way I hear them. Don’t let any fucker on the internet make you forget how good you are._

_Your friend,_

_Freddie x_

_bri.mp4_

_Sent: 4:57 am_

Brian quickly plugged in headphones and watched the video, and it was a compilation of all his guitar solos he posted, both from covers and his original work. The cloud in his heart vaporized and warmth trickled down his chest. Did...Freddie stay up all night and put this together? 

_“Your friend, Freddie.”_

Brian had to get ready for the day, but he needed to respond. _Thank you for thinking of me, thank you for reaching out even though we’ve never met, thank you for making a little gift even though we only messaged each other twice._

_To: Freddie Mercury_

_From: Brian May_

_Freddie,_

_I wish I had more time before class to reply to you properly, but all I can say is: thank you. Really. I think I needed this more than I realised. This was incredibly thoughtful of you, and a pleasant surprise to wake up to._

_Thank you again._

_Your friend,_

_Brian_

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Brian stood from his bed and felt ready for the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now the internet drama has picked up a bit! But there will be more ;)


	5. Chapter 5

Brian took the initiative to delete the Instagram app off his phone while he attempted to fend off a depressive episode.

_ “Hey guys,”  _ he’d posted to his story,  _ “I’m only letting you know that I won’t be online for a little while. I have a couple exams I really need to study for, and I need as little distractions as possible. I’ll be back soon :)” _

It wasn’t really a lie, since it felt like he always had a non-stop wave of exams written in his planner. Although the real reason for his small break was the irksome drama, he would use the opportunity to study more and put the nonsense out of his mind as much as possible. Midterms were around the corner, anyway. 

Roger even breathed a sigh of relief when he told him he deleted the app for now. “This might be one of the only times you’ve actually listened to me.”

“Don’t push your luck.”

This would be good for him, and it was. It was just that his body, decidedly, had other plans.

After weeks and weeks of being a tiny bit obsessed with those dark eyes and plump lips, his brain decided to dream of Freddie gazing up at him as he sucked Brian’s cock. He didn’t know why it decided to do this now, but dreams rarely made sense. Freddie’s cheeks hollowed, he pulled back with a smirk, and placed a kiss on the head of his cock. In reality, Brian awoke sticky and breathing hard, momentarily disoriented. He realized what happened and scrubbed his hand over his face.

“Really?” he whispered to himself.

Maybe it was inevitable, though, because even though he was utterly hopeless at chatting people up, he was a young man with an active sex drive, and it’d been awhile since he had a good shag, or even a good wank, truth be told. His body had needs, and Freddie was on his mind a lot, so it was only natural for him to have a wet dream of him. Not a big deal. He’d just clean himself up and forget about it.

And then it happened the next night.

And the night after.

God damn it.

He didn’t know how he was supposed to prevent his crush from getting worse when he couldn't control his dreams. It wasn’t fair. Lately, it felt like whenever he tried to move on with his life and think of something else than Freddie Bloody Mercury, he was pulled back into his orbit. Mercury’s orbit. He was full of corny space jokes.

Brian was thinking of this in the shower, which probably wasn’t a good idea, in retrospect, but as he rubbed soapy water over his chest with Freddie’s beautiful face in his mind’s eye, his cock stirred with interest. He bit his lip and looked down. There was a part of him that said it would be wrong to do this, since Freddie considered him a friend. Somehow, it felt like a breach of trust, whether or not that was true. Would he be disgusted and never talk to Brian again if he found out? But it wasn’t like he’d ever tell Freddie about this, obviously. He wasn’t that dense. Plus, he’d already had three wet dreams of him, entirely out of his control...Brian wrapped his wet, soapy hand around his cock. He exhaled slowly, keeping his breathing quiet so Roger didn’t hear him, and stroked. The soap and water on his hand made his touch moist and smooth, and he grew harder in his grasp.

He thought of Freddie smiling mischievously as he sank to his knees and wrapped his lips around the head of his cock. But, no, he’d been dreaming of that enough lately. Time to mix it up. Instead, Brian’s mind switched to what Freddie would look like naked, and how he’d respond to Brian’s hands on his body. Was Freddie vocal in bed? Did he bite his plump bottom lip to stifle his groans, or did he let moans fall from his lips freely? Did he get loud? Brian braced his forearm on the wall of the shower and bit it, keeping his own noises under control. He was fully hard (Christ, it was easy to make him hot and needy lately), and he thought of Freddie moaning his name in that voice of his. Brian squeezed his erection and began to thrust into the slick circle of his fist, biting his forearm even harder. His thighs shook lightly with the effort to keep himself upright, and the hot water sliding down his body only heightened his arousal. He closed his eyes to let his imagination fully take over, and a few quick thrusts whilst imagining he was actually _inside_ of Freddie left him choking back a groan and coming over his fist and the wall of the shower.

Brian washed himself off (again) and wiped the wall off with his washcloth.  _ I did it. I wanked to Freddie, _ he thought. Somehow, his crush felt more real now. He didn’t know how to feel about this.

_ I need to get laid, _ he thought dejectedly. He couldn’t work up the courage to go and chat anyone up in a pub or club, though. Maybe if he played guitar live, people would be interested enough to come up to him instead, but he couldn’t go up to some pretty little thing in a pub and proudly proclaim he was a YouTube musician, or an “influencer.” He’d be laughed at. Brian took a deep breath before he could begin to spiral. It wasn’t like he had the time to date, anyway.  _ Focus on your studies. _

The one good thing was that the time he spent away from his phone allowed him to complete “’39.” He just needed to negotiate a time when Roger could help him out. He hoped Roger would be willing to do the falsetto he had in mind.

In the meantime, against his will, internet life bled into reality more.

The girl who’d unintentionally started it all by showing him Freddie’s YouTube comment—Natalie—came up to his desk with a couple giggly friends as the rest of the class worked on problem sets and chatted quietly amongst themselves.

“Hi, Mr. May,” Natalie said.

Brian looked up from the papers he was grading with a smile, but said, “Girls, aren’t you supposed to be working right now?”

“We’ve finished up early,” a girl said.

He raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Have you?”

“Mostly,” Natalie said, and quickly went on before Brian could send them back to their seats. “So what’s new with your beef with the Sex Pistols?”

Brian’s hand tightened around his red pen, and he hoped his face didn’t look as bad as he suddenly felt. Bloody hell, so his students did see all of that nonsense, after all, at least some of them. This was bad. He wanted to be professional around them, but this was what he got for posting on a public platform. These kids were only fourteen, and he didn’t want them looking at his less than composed behavior online and thinking that was okay (although he stood by what he said, every word of it). He hoped his students didn’t talk about this in their other classes, because other instructors might overhear, deem Brian’s online behavior unprofessional, and go to the headmaster, and then he’d be fired. He and Roger couldn’t afford for him to be fired, they were only just getting by as it was.  _ Don’t spiral, don’t spiral. _

“Girls,” he said tiredly, “can we not talk about social media in class?”

“What about  _ after  _ class?” the girl standing to the right of Natalie said with a smirk.

“No,” he said firmly. “Nothing is new. I told of Sid vicious for saying disrespectful things about my friend, and that was that.”

“You’re actually friends with Freddie Mercury?” Natalie gasped. “What’s he like? He’s  _ so  _ cute!”

Her friend to the right slapped her arm. “He’s gay!”

“So? It’s not like I’m gonna date him,” she rolled her eyes.

Brian interrupted them. “He’s fine, he’s great, but listen, I don’t want you thinking about anything but maths in this class. As I said, there’s nothing new. I haven’t even been on my phone for a few days.  _ You  _ should do the same,” he said pointedly.

“But new stuff has happened,” a girl said. “A gossip channel I follow is talking about it.”

Brian’s heart sped up unpleasantly. He kept his tone even. “Gossip channels are no better than the trashy tabloids you find in the supermarket,” he said with bitterness creeping into his features without his knowledge. “I have an actual life, unlike them, so I don’t pay them any mind. They’re not worth my time.”

The shift in his demeanor unsettled the girls, who were accustomed to their polite, softly spoken Mr. May, and they looked defeated.

“Oh,” Natalie said. “Well, um, I get that. We get it. Just sayin’. Uh, we’ll leave you to grading.”

Brian maybe felt a little badly when they went back to their seats in disappointment, but more than anything, anxiety pricked at his nerves with the knowledge that he was being talked about, and on  _ gossip  _ channels. He considered that corner of YouTube one of the worst, because people just sat around and garnered views not from any talent of their own, but by sticking their nose into other people’s business. They were leeches, and also some of the most popular channels on the platform. It wasn’t a surprise that they attracted young, impressionable teens. 

For the rest of the day, he had to fight the urge to go on social media and see what people were talking about. He thought about asking Roger to do it for him, but he’d probably get annoyed that Brian was even thinking about it at all. It seriously irritated Brian. Why did people have to go and make mini internet scandals out of other people’s lives? It was none of their business.

(He ignored the fact that posting on social media was a choice.)

“Hey, do you think you’ll be free this week to record?” Brian asked Roger to distract himself.

“Probably,” he said. “I’ve got a job interview on Thursday, though.”

“Oh, really? Where?”

“A stall in Kensington Market.” He didn’t sound happy about it.

Brian raised an eyebrow. “You, a salesman?”

“I know,” Roger sighed. “But I’m tired of Tesco’s and the change of scenery might be nice. It’s not like I’m making much now. The stall sells vintage clothing and stuff, too, so I might see something interesting and pick it up, myself.”

“Isn’t the point to earn money, not spend it?”

“Shaddup,” he waved his hand. “Anyway, is it that space song?”

“Yeah, ‘’39.’ Want me to give you a rough version of it, so you can think about the beat you’ll put in?”

“Lay it on me.”

Brian got his acoustic guitar and sang the song for him, sitting on one end of the sofa with Roger on the other.

He had a small smile on his face. “It’s quite nice, really.”

Brian smiled, his face warming pleasantly. “Thanks, Rog. Got any ideas for it?”

“I’m thinking a tambourine would fit in,” Roger said.

“Huh. I hadn’t thought of that.” But it’d sound good with the folk rock feel of the song.

“I know the meanings of lyrics are secret and all that, but in a literal sense, what does it mean, again?” Roger asked.

Brian snorted and explained it. 

“Only you’d make a depressing song about general relativity,” he laughed.

He shrugged with a sheepish grin. “Oh, another thing. During the break in between the lyrics, you think you can try a falsetto?”

“How high?”

Brian played the notes on his guitar, because he considered himself an okay singer at best and was  _ not  _ about to do that.

Roger looked amused. “A challenge, eh? All right, how about we record on Friday once we’re both home and don’t have anything to do? I'll think of the percussion in the meantime.”

“Sure.”

They did just that, with Roger coming home from his job interview in a good mood and saying they could practice that day so they could record tomorrow. The older woman who owned the stall liked him, he said, and wanted to give a struggling student a job.

“She was impressed by my boyish charms,” Roger winked.

“No, she felt  _ sorry  _ for you,” Brian shot back.

He casually flipped him off. “As I was saying, I start next week, so you might see me a little less in the afternoons.”

“Every day?”

“Might be. She said I can work out a schedule with the other bloke she just hired—she said he’s in uni, too, and he’s nice but terrible at handling the money.” He put his things down and took his shoes off. “But c’mon, it’s been a long week and I’m ready to jam. Even if it’s a depressing space song.”

They worked through the song that evening, with Roger figuring out just what he wanted to do with the tambourine, and deciding he wanted to keep tapping out a steady rhythm with his foot, so he dragged a large drum into Brian’s room. It took some tinkering and a glass of water for Roger’s throat to pull off the falsetto Brian wanted, but he was satisfied with the result. As always, despite their butting heads, something truly clicked when they played together. Roger never missed a beat, literally, and he took the music seriously, even though they were only posting to YouTube. They recorded the next day when the lighting in Brian’s room was ideal, and then he was left to upload it.

Brian was always apprehensive about posting something with him singing, but he actually liked this song a lot and wanted people to hear it. Promoting the song outside of YouTube, though, meant he had to log back into Instagram and Twitter. He re-downloaded the apps and posted links to the song on YouTube.

_ “Hello, everyone,”  _ he typed in the caption of his tweet and Instagram post, where he put a screenshot of the video.  _ “New song, written by me, featuring Roger for percussion AND supporting vocals. It involves outer space this time :-) -Bri” _

He valiantly ignored all of the notifications he had on Instagram and Twitter, and logged out of the apps. There. He kept it short, sweet, and to the point. He didn’t engage with drama at all. He normally looked at feedback straight away when he posted something, but he would wait a few days for the sake of his mental health. 

Since it had to do with music and not nonsense, Roger filled him in on the responses. “People like it,” he said. “Like everything else, the dickheads who disliked it are in the minority, small minority at that. Some of the comments are confused about the meaning, though, and there are replies talking about general relativity. Of course your fans are nerds, too.”

Brian quite liked the idea of fellow scientists watching his video and getting the meaning. “Of course my fans are  _ smart,  _ too,” he corrected jokingly.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Roger gave him a shit-eating grin. “Besides, there are comments about  _ me,  _ too.”

“About your voice?”

“Yeah, and how breathtakingly sexy I am,” he wiggles his eyebrows.

“Well, there  _ are  _ a lot of trolls in YouTube comments,” he said, deadpanned.

Roger threw a magazine at him.

All in all, Brian felt good about the song. Having people appreciate his work always put him in a good place, at least for a little while.

* * *

It was Monday evening and Brian was riding home on the tube. There weren’t many people in the train car with him, and he allowed himself to close his eyes. He was coming home a little later than usual, having spent time studying in the library, and he was tired. The semester felt endless and it was like every time he took one exam, it was time to study for another one. He loved the stars, but sometimes he cursed himself for picking such a difficult major. He didn’t know what else he’d do with his life, though. The only other things he liked were music and photography, and he couldn’t pursue either as a career. The arts were notorious for unreliable income. His dad would be furious.

Brian had one leg crossed over the other and the side of his head resting on the window. He decided to sit up straight and open his eyes, though, because he didn’t want to accidentally fall asleep and miss his stop. With a sigh, he lifted his head and opened his eyes.

In the seat across from him, a boy was staring at him. He hadn’t been there a few minutes ago. Once he noticed Brian’s gaze, he looked away quickly, a slight dusting of pink on his pale face.

Brian’s eyebrows furrowed. It took him a second, but wait, he knew that face. He looked even younger in person, but it was, “John Deacon?” he blurted out.

John turned back to him, surprise in his light eyes. “Brian May,” he said. “Hello.”

“Hi.” This was the first time they talked directly, without Brian typing. It was awkward. “You recognize me?”

“You’ve got a recognizable hairstyle,” he said, amusement playing on his lips.

He snorted. “Right.” John looked a few years younger than he was, and Brian wondered how old he really was if he went to school with Freddie, but asking his age out of nowhere might be rude. Instead, he asked, “Do you always take the tube at this time?” He’d been riding all semester and had never seen John. Then again, he was coming home later than usual.

“More or less, yeah,” he said. “I don’t normally see you.”

“Ah, well, I was on campus late today, studying.”

“Midterm exams?” he asked knowingly.

Brian sighed. “Yeah. I feel like I’ve done nothing but read for the past several days.”

He smiled a little. “I know the feeling. I’ve got them, too.”

“You’re studying electronics, right?”

“Yeah, and Freddie said you’re studying astrophysics?”

_ Freddie’s talked about me. _ “Yep.”

“Wow. Must be hard. I saw that you’re taking a hiatus from social media because of exams, yeah?”

“Yeah, at least for a few more days. It was all getting to be a bit much,” he said without thinking, but then it caught up to him that this was Freddie’s friend and flatmate. He probably had an idea of the drama that Brian inserted himself into.

As if reading his mind, John looked him up and down. “Hmm, yeah,” he said vaguely.

Brian felt scrutinized under his cool gaze. Okay, apparently there was something slightly intimidating about John Deacon in person. Noted.

“It’s a good decision,” he shrugged. “It’s better to study than argue with people online.”

Brian felt his face heat up. John didn’t beat around the bush. Noted, again. “Yeah, I.” His hands curled into fists atop his knees. “I got, um, a little too heated, recently.”

Something in John’s gaze turned friendlier. “Not really,” he said, surprising Brian. “I thought you were fine.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged one shoulder.

Brian remembered when he talked to Freddie last time on Instagram with a hint of self-consciousness. “Freddie said I don’t have to defend him.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but it was nice of you to stand up for him,” he said. “He might not admit it, but he appreciated it.”

“Really?” he raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah. I don’t think he expected it. It’s not like any other content creator has defended him. His fans, sure, but not other YouTubers.”

“Well,” Brian shifted in the uncomfortable seat, “I couldn’t see someone be hateful towards him and say nothing. Even if people disagree with him, there’s no reason to resort to bigotry.”

John’s smile almost grew a little sad. “I agree, but it wasn’t the first time and it won’t be the last, I’m afraid.”

Brian leaned forward a little. “What, he deals with this often?” he asked, unwarranted protectiveness rising in him.

He pursed his lips. “Not quite so often, although, I’m not sure. Freddie doesn’t talk about it. He considers it all a waste of time. But you know, he’s always been...unapologetic in who he is,” he said succinctly. “But that means people have always had ammunition to take a cheap shot at him.”

A spark of fire lit in his gut. He was naive to think that was the first bout of homophobia thrown at Freddie. “It is cheap,” he agreed.

John sighed a little. “It’s not easy to see, as his friend, but Freddie always says he’s fine.”

“Does he mean that?” Brian asked.

John pursed his lips. “On most days, I think so. But sometimes…” He shook his head, as if coming to his senses. “Well, I shouldn’t go around spreading his business.”

“Of course,” he said, slightly disappointed. “Sorry, I shouldn’t pry.”

“No, don’t worry about it. Fred considers you a friend, anyway.”

His smile was weak, because his mind was stuck on the bullshit Freddie had to deal with. If he were being honest with himself, it made him leery of coming out on social media, not that he was particularly keen on doing that anytime soon.

John spoke again. “He’s been listening to your new song like crazy, by the way.”

Brian snapped out of his thoughts. “What? He has?”

“Yeah. I like it, too, but he asked me to download an mp3 file of the song for him from YouTube and everything. He’s hopeless with technology.”

So was Brian, who was now pleased pink. “Oh, wow, um, thank you. And tell Freddie thanks, too. I’m glad he likes it so much. I’ll tell Roger, too,” he said at the last second, remembering that he was part of the song, too, and he shouldn’t make it obvious that he was really only concerned with what Freddie thought of him and his work. 

The tube had been riding along and coming to stops smoothly, but at this one, John looked up. “Ah, the next stop is mine.”

Brian realized that they didn’t live too far from each other. “Oh, all right. It was nice seeing you in person.”

He smiled, revealing the slightest gap between his front teeth. “Likewise.” His phone chirped, and he retrieved it from his pocket. “It’s Freddie, bored at work.”

“He works evenings?”

“He started a new job recently, and the schedule’s a little erratic.” He looked up from his phone at Brian with a grin. “Hey, I’ve got an idea. Want to take a selfie with me and say hi? He’ll be surprised, I’m sure.”

Brian’s heart fluttered. He probably looked terrible, but he smiled and said, “Yeah, why not?”

John quickly crossed the aisle and hopped into the seat next to Brian, holding out his phone and switching on facecam. Brian tried not to wince at his tired expression. His hair was a mess and the harsh lights on the tube made him paler than usual. Then again, who looked great on the tube? Still, it wasn’t his best look. He looked like a dictionary definition of an overtired student. He waved a hand and smiled sheepishly as John widened his eyes and stuck out his tongue. It was funny, Brian mused, that a part of John came off as a little reserved, but he appeared to be playful with Freddie.

John snapped the photo and took back the phone. “Perfect,” he said, and began typing.

Brian saw that he was sending the selfie to Freddie with the message:  _ “look who I saw ;)” _

The tube came to a halt. “Oh, that’s my stop,” John quickly got up and stuffed his phone in his pocket. “See you, Brian,” he waved a hand, and was hurrying out of the tube before he could reply.

Brian spent the rest of the ride and the walk home from the station agonizing over why John put a winking face in his message, and wondering how Freddie reacted to the photo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brian met someone--just not who you probably expected lol. He'll meet Freddie soon, though.
> 
> I wrote a couple things for Maycury Week, btw, you should check them out ;)
> 
> Stop by my tumblr (same name) and say hi <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot goes on in this one lol, I hope you enjoy because it was fun to write

Brian felt pretty good when he got home. John seemed as nice in-person as he was on camera, which was refreshing given the seemingly endless stream of videos exposing YouTubers as manipulative phonies. He let himself imagine, too, that Freddie smiled when he saw the selfie John took with him. 

“What’s got you in a good mood?” Roger asked when he came in. “I’m not complaining, but it’s unusual.”

“I just met John Deacon on the tube,” Brian answered.

“Really?” he raised his eyebrows. “Small world, but we do live on an island, eh?”

Brian rolled his eyes in amusement. “Great observation, Rog.”

“What’s he like, anyway?”

“Nice,” he said. “We didn’t talk long because his stop was before mine, but he’s pretty chill. We talked a little about stupid social media drama, and then he took a selfie with me to send to Freddie before he got off.”

“Don’t you talk to Freddie more than John?” he asked casually.

“Technically, yes, but we haven’t talked much,” he said. “Just here and there. It’s not like we have each other’s phone numbers.” He didn’t mention the little guitar compilation Freddie made him, which he’d been thinking about off and on since it was sent to him. “Oh!” he remembered. “John said he and Freddie really enjoyed ‘’39'—your bit included,” he added.

“I knew they had good taste,” Roger smiled. “In me, anyway.”

Brian knew he was joking, so he just made a face. “The point is, it was a nice conversation. He’s not like the other ‘influencers’ who are arseholes when the cameras aren’t rolling.”

“It doesn’t seem like Freddie is, either,” he said. “None of the four of us are typical ‘influencers,’” he curled his lip in derision at the term. 

“True.”

Roger stood from the sofa with a sigh. “Ugh, I’ve got to actually do homework tonight,” he groused, putting on his future musician persona and acting as if Brian didn’t know how bright he was in his own right. “I can’t get away with doing it before class tomorrow ’cause I start at that stall.”

“In the morning?”

“At least for this first shift,” he said. “I’m supposed to meet with the other guy and work something out. I’ll try to convince him to give me a later shift.”

“Not everyone falls for your charms,” he teased.

“You never know, he could be gay!” he said hopefully.

Brian was in a good enough mood that he felt comfortable joking that, “Well I’m bi, and your tricks have never worked on me.”

Roger looked delighted that he was actually talking to him about this, even in a humorous context. “Uh, hello? Being bi doesn’t automatically mean you have good taste. You’re still _Brian,_ after all.”

“You’ve got a lot of nerve!” Brian laughed, and grabbed a napkin from their small kitchen to wad up and toss at Roger.

He batted it away with a giggle. “I’m not picking that up. I’m going to my room now.”

Brian was left to his own devices in the flat. He had the telly on in the background as he ate dinner and relaxed on the couch for an hour or so, since he’d studied until his eyes burned this afternoon. He was tired but felt good, better than he had in a little while. Life felt sort of normal. He even called up his parents for a chat, since it had been a couple weeks.

“It’s been two months, Brian!” his mother scolded.

His eyes widened. “Really?”

She sighed. “You never change, do you?” she asked fondly.

He frowned. “I’m sorry, Mum. Time just got away from me.”

“I know how busy you are,” she assured him.

Brian told her about his coursework and tutoring job, and it relaxed him to hear his mother’s voice again and have her fuss a bit over the phone. It was hard to keep his head above water over the past few weeks and this conversation was long overdue, although he kept his mouth shut about anything related to social media. Neither of his parents watched YouTube regularly or knew much about his channel. He was careful not to let anything slip when his father got on the phone, especially.

As much as Brian preened from the validation he got from the note of pride in his father’s voice as he told him about his classes, there was a little twist in his chest, because he knew how much he’d disapprove if he knew Brian was stuck in a dark cloud from the internet. It felt like lying to exclude a huge part of his life, because being a YouTuber took as much mental energy as being a student nowadays, but he did it.

“Only a little while to go,” his father said, “and then you can come visit.”

“I’d like that,” Brian said, although he’d gotten quite used to living with Roger. Then again, they’d need a break from each other eventually before they threw things at each other sooner or later.

“I’ll let you go now, Brian,” his father said, but then his mother said something in the background.

“What’s Mum saying?” he asked.

His father chuckled. “She said you have to bring home a nice girl for us to meet after the semester ends.”

A slither of unease wrapped around his stomach. “Oh. Uh...I…”

His father gave a good natured laugh. “Ruth, you’ve embarrassed our boy,” he said to her. Then to Brian, “She’s only kidding. You just focus on your studies. Everything else is secondary.”

Brian suddenly remembered why he hadn’t called home in months. “Right. I better get going, then. Bye, Dad.”

“Goodbye, Brian. Take care.”

Brian hung up and stared at the ceiling in his room. _Which would disappoint him more? His son spending time playing rock star online, or spending time hung up on a man?_

Brian cringed.

He bloody studied enough for one day. He needed a break and he didn’t want to disturb Roger. He thought a hot shower would soothe him, but it only reminded his body that this was where he wanked to Freddie, and he felt ashamed for wanting to do it again. He ignored the stirring in his groin and washed himself quickly. He got into bed, but was too keyed up to sleep, despite feeling worn out from classes, tutoring, and studying. He hated when his body wanted rest but his mind refused to let him. 

So he grabbed his laptop and went on YouTube, intending to watch mindless videos. 

Because he was off Instagram and Twitter, he thought it’d be fine and he wouldn’t get aggravated. But in his recommended videos was a video posted just a couple hours ago from a well-known gossip channel. It was run by an obnoxious young man whose name Brian refused to remember. He used way too many sound effects in his videos, transitions, and performatively sipped from an oversized cup of tea to joke and laugh about whoever’s lives he was profiting off. He wasn’t the only account like that, but his channel was among the most popular in the commentary community with 1.4 million subscribers. These kinds of videos and channels typically never ended up in his recommendations, but the title made it clear why the algorithm put it on his screen.

_“Freddie Mercury EXPOSED: what he DOESN’T want you to see”_

It already had 320,000 views.

The slithering coil of anxiety wrapped tighter around his stomach. He pressed his lips together. He remembered his students saying gossip channels were still talking about the nonsense with Freddie and Sid Vicious. It must have been about that, or in response to that, but it was stupid. What could some stranger possibly expose Freddie with? This was why Brian took his small social media hiatus, because he knew people would continue to be insufferable and profit off bullshit. People needed to leave him alone. All Freddie did was express an opinion on music, at the end of the day. Everyone else blew it out of proportion. The idea of some shite deciding Freddie was his next target lit a flame of protectiveness in Brian, and he clicked on the video before any rational part of his brain could stop himself.

“Hey, everyone!” the YouTuber said loudly. “So _today,_ I have some really hot tea for you.” He picked up his cup and slurped. He put it down delicately. “If you’ve been keeping up with my channel, and the commentary community in general, then you know about the beef between singer-songwriter Freddie Mercury and the Sex Pistols with their lead singer, Sid Vicious.” Pictures of the two men came up on screen with blaring sirens.

Brian grumbled in annoyance. “Just fucking get on with it.”

“It’s been a real _thrill_ to cover,” he clapped his hands together, “and I’ve loved reading all your thoughts about it in the comments and on Twitter. But I think we can all agree Freddie Mercury has gotten too big for his britches, right?” The camera dramatically zoomed in on his face.

“No,” Brian whispered. 

The picture Freddie posted of himself painting his nails came on the screen next to the YouTuber’s face. “We all know this guy thinks he’s royalty or some shit,” he grimaced. “That’s why he puts on that ‘his majesty’ persona or whatever. It’s annoying, that’s well-established.”

“No, it’s not!” Brian whispered hotly. What was the big deal? Freddie was probably just having fun with his little persona.

“But he hasn’t always been as _high_ and _mighty_ or _prim_ and proper as he wants you to believe,” he raised his eyebrows and a stock-sound clip of a crowd gasping played. “What if I told you he had another channel a few years ago?”

Despite himself, Brian grew interested. Was that true? Freddie never mentioned a previous channel, and it didn’t come up on his page.

“Now,” he held up his hands, “most people don’t know about this because the channel was a lot smaller.” Screenshots appeared on the screen of a channel called “Larry Lurex.” The channel had roughly 11,000 subscribers, a far cry from the numbers he had now.

 _Who the hell is Larry?_ Brian thought.

As if reading his mind, the prick whose name Brian still refused to even register said, “The first thing you’ll notice is the name. Larry Lurex. It’s totally different from what he calls himself now, so who is he, really, first of all?”

John called him _Freddie,_ so Brian assumed that was his real name. Maybe Larry Lurex was a previous stage name? “Is this all you have on him?” Brian asked the screen.

“This is just kinda weird, but nothing special,” he admitted. “How _ever,”_ he said dramatically, “my editor who helped me get all this information together was able to use the Wayback Machine and access some deleted videos.” He raised his eyebrows again and suspenseful music played in the background. “I won’t play the entirety of these videos, but just chunks to let you see that Freddie—or Larry, whoever—wasn’t always this singing god he presents himself as. His makeup wasn’t even on point!” he said, like it was the most scandalous thing in the world. “I mean, come on.”

Then, on the screen, emerged a much younger face. His black hair was short with bangs, almost like a Beatles cut, and there didn’t appear to be any makeup on his face at all, actually. There were some spots on his cheeks from acne and he wore a polo shirt. He had to be about fifteen, but those same large, dark eyes stared at the camera, but with apprehension and not the confidence Brian had gotten used to.

_Freddie?_

Before he could open his mouth, the clip paused and a voiceover from the YouTuber played. “Okay, so, first of all, he looks pretty different, doesn’t he? Like a nerdy kid from the chess club or something.” The camera zoomed into his red, bumpy cheeks. “Dude, get some acne cream!”

Brian’s hands curled into fists. It was shitty to mock anyone for their skin, in Brian’s opinion, and the Freddie on the screen was _clearly_ a kid. How could a grown adult mock him like this? And for what, clout?

“But he looks pretty different, doesn’t he? Until he opens his mouth. Trust me,” he laughed, “he has the same jacked up teeth.”

Brian might have actually growled, he didn’t know. So much anger was pounding at his skull that he was speechless. Of all the fucking things to say about someone—!

The clip resumed and a backing track played the intro of a song for several seconds, and then Freddie opened his mouth to sing.

Another pause.

The commentator snorted. “Told you about the teeth,” he said as the screen zoomed in on Freddie’s front teeth. “Guess he never got braces.”

Brian was so angry his breath was robbed from him.

The clip resumed and Freddie began to sing.

Brian couldn’t quite place the song, but he thought he might have heard it on one of his mother’s old Liza Minnelli CDs that she would play when he was a child. Freddie’s voice was powerful, but uncontrolled. He hit all the right notes, but the excess power created a somewhat unsteady vibrato in places where it wasn’t needed. While traces of Freddie’s current singing style could be heard, this version of his voice was obviously much younger, inexperienced, and in need of reigning in. 

But Brian only grew more impressed with Freddie. First of all, he still had a lot of raw power for a teenager, and secondly, this was only evidence of how much Freddie worked at his craft to get the result he had today. Everyone had to start somewhere. If Freddie worked hard throughout his youth to refine his voice, then that should be admired. This was like judging an adult artist based on drawings they did in high school; it was unfair and sort of irrelevant. 

The Youtuber cut back in. “Can you believe it?” he asked with a shit-eating grin. “He wouldn’t pass a high school choir class.”

That wasn’t true and Brian’s breathing was beginning to grow heavier with anger.

A clip played of young Freddie hitting a note with a wobble in his voice, and a clip of a sheep bleating played. It went back and forth a few times, with the video playing Freddie singing and the sheep crying in succession.

“Uncanny, isn’t it?” the man laughed.

“You _fucking_ bastard,” Brian shot daggers at the screen.

“No wonder he deleted the channel,” he said as screenshots popped up of several like/dislike bars under Freddie’s old videos. There were a significant amount of dislikes on each one, and Brian winced. “People were not impressed,” the smarmy bastard continued, and now there were screenshots of old comments from the Wayback Machine of people mocking his voice and teeth. The man appeared back on screen with a smug smile. “So, there you have it, ladies and gentleman. You’d think Freddie would keep his mouth shut, but maybe his teeth prevent him, I don’t know. The point is, there’s that saying about how you shouldn’t throw stones in glass houses and all that. He should have checked himself before he wrecked himself,” he shrugged. “I doubt Sid ever sang like a dying sheep. But there’s a larger point here. Freddie Mercury is a fraud. He’s not some powerful singer who’s too cool for everyone else; he’s a fucking dweeb just trying to get everyone’s attention. I even heard he just pretends to be gay because it’s trendy. I, for one, am sick of everyone singing his praises, no pun intended,” he giggled. “It’s time we put him in his place, but I’ll leave it up to you. Do what you want, but he’s a joke.” His shit-eating grin was back. “And that’s all for this video! Make sure you like, comment, and subscribe! Support me on Patreon if—”

Brian shut off the video and instantly reinstalled Instagram on his phone, his mind full of nothing but rage, giving him tunnel vision. He pulled up his camera and turned on facecam. He started recording a video. He was so angry that the words spilled out of him, completely unfiltered. 

“Hey, folks,” he said sourly, unable to mask his mood. His voice was cold and stern. “I am _not_ naming names because I’m loath to give this parasite more attention, but someone decided to make a ridiculous hit piece on my friend, Freddie Mercury. If you’re watching this, you know exactly who you are. How dare you. First, you and your little crew dug up videos of him when he was a teenager to mock his appearance. Freddie grew up, but you _clearly_ haven’t. What kind of adult mocks the skin and teeth of a teenager? Were you a supermodel whilst in high school? I hope you’re not such an arsehole to kids you see in real life. I hope you never have children, actually.

"As if that were not dreadful enough, you laughed at his voice. First of all, he still had more power than most people ever get, still sang better than _you,_ I’m sure. He sang better than me! But more importantly, I think it’s great to see how much Freddie’s progressed over the years. He’s actually _worked_ on himself and mastered his talent. Not everyone has the drive to do that. Most successful artists develop over time, he’s not an outlier in that respect. What have _you_ done besides causing trouble? Last but not least, you said he’s pretending to be gay because it’s ‘trendy.’ Who the bloody _hell_ are you to make such a judgment on someone’s sexual orientation? I don’t know what universe you live in where that’s acceptable behavior, but here on planet earth, it’s vile and inexcusable. You have absolutely nothing incriminating on Freddie, because there’s nothing wrong with those videos when he was a boy, and there’s _no_ evidence he’s faked his sexuality. Instead of making baseless claims and acting like a primary school bully, why don’t you find something more productive with your time? Leave Freddie’s name out of your mouth, you bitchy little worm.”

He ended the video and uploaded it to his account with the caption: _“I’m sick of the toxicity of this community. It’s got to end. Brian.”_

* * *

Bad move.

The next morning, his notifications were absolutely flooded with a few different types of comments: 1.) people agreeing with him and applauding his standing up for Freddie 2.) fans of Sid Vicious insulting him 3.) fans of the YouTuber insulting him 4.) people mocking the penguin shirt he hadn’t realized he was wearing to bed 5.) people from 2 and 3 accusing him of wanting to suck Freddie’s cock. Brian was completely overwhelmed and embarrassed by his outburst last night. It wasn’t that he regretted what he said, but there was probably a better way to phrase it all without being so openly hostile. If nothing else, it wasn’t a good look for him to yell on the internet. He must have looked mad, too, snapping at the camera with his hair wild from being towel-dried after a shower. He should have stopped to think for a split second, but his emotions got the better of him. His mind was so filled with anger that it just went blank with it, and he spoke exactly what was on his mind. Didn’t he see enough social media users get in trouble for this exact thing? He should have known better.

His mind was elsewhere during his lectures, his hand absently scribbling in his notebook to imitate taking notes. He was grateful that he didn’t have to tutor today, given that his job only had him in the classroom three times per week, because there was no way he’d be able to teach maths with his mind racing and skull pounding. God, he didn’t want to face those students who kept up with all of this drama, either. What a bad example he set by making the video, but he didn’t know whether or not to delete it. Would that be seen as cowardly? Would people make fun of him more? Besides, people had surely downloaded it by now to use in their own reaction videos. He was probably going to end up on those gossip channels by tonight. Brian checked that trash gossip video out of morbid curiosity to see the view count. It was almost at a million views under twenty-four hours after it had been uploaded. Fuck. Brian avoided his notifications when he went on Instagram on his way home from school, and he checked Freddie’s account instead to see if he reacted to any of this.

The last post Freddie made was that nail varnish one from before, but there was nothing new, not even an Instagram story.

Brian didn’t know if this was a good or bad thing. Maybe Freddie was laying low but didn’t really care. He thought about messaging him, but chickened out, his cheeks stinging with mortification on the tube at the thought of Freddie seeing the video and acting like a stupid white knight. He hadn’t even considered how Freddie might feel about his video. He was such an impulsive moron. He just wanted to help someone he cared about, but his abrasive personality ruined everything. Every new notification that popped up spiked his anxiety even more, and he felt sick to his stomach by the time he actually got home. He went straight to his room and laid down on the bed, burying his face into his pillow and shaking from memories of the comments he saw.

_“Lmao who the fuck do you think you are?”_

_“Ah the guy who cant play for shit has something to say”_

_“Ur not good enough to be this arrogant lmao”_

_“Bro Freddie’s not gonna fuck you”_

_“Dude ur simping so hard rn it’s so hard to watch”_

_“Imagine being this annoying lol”_

_“This is so cringey”_

_“Um does he not get that ppl are gonna talk about that video more now? Lol dumbass”_

_“Someone plz just make those two fuck already”_

_“Go choke on his cock, bitch”_

_“I say the moron with the huge nose belongs with the asshole with the fucked up teeth :) what a cute couple XD”_

_“This man needs a real problem to worry about”_

_“You must be fun at parties”_

_“Lmao what adult man wears a penguin shirt like a toddler”_

_“Anyone else can’t stop looking at that terrible shirt?”_

_“Just stick your head in the oven and put US out of our misery”_

_“Kill yourself fucker”_

_“Freddie sucks, die mad about it. Literally”_

_“You’re a waste of life”_

_“Die, bitch”_

Brian shook and tears soaked his pillowcase. All the comments were repeating on a loop in his head for hours and he couldn’t stop it. His head was pounding with pressure built up behind his eyes. It was made worse by the knowledge that was only a glimpse of what people were saying about him. There were more people talking about him, saying he was a talentless loser who was making a fool of himself for Freddie and that he deserved to die. He just wanted to help. That was all. But he couldn’t do anything right, so maybe the comments weren’t so far off…

That train of thought scared him, and made a fresh wave of tears spill onto his pillow. He just wanted to disappear. It was too much to handle. If everyone was saying the things he secretly thought about himself for years, then didn’t that mean it was all true? He should just delete all his social media and lock himself in his room and never come out. He was such a fuck up. He really hoped his parents didn’t hear about this somehow.

He didn’t even hear the front door or any footsteps, but his thoughts were too troubled and heavy to even care when he felt something touch him. He didn’t move. He didn’t care. 

There was a dip in the mattress as Roger sat on the edge of the bed. He pushed Brian’s hair away from the side of his face.

He didn’t open his eyes. He was ashamed.

“Brian,” his raspy voice said softly. “What the fuck are you doing, mate?”

He shuddered, sniffling.

Roger sighed heavily. “Seriously, what’s going on with you?” he asked in concern. “I haven’t seen you this bad since high school.”

Brian didn’t like to remember that time, and he gripped the blankets beneath his fingers. Now he was worrying his friend like the useless piece of shit he was.

“Whatever your head’s telling you, don’t listen,” Roger said quietly, placing a hand on his back. “Just _talk_ to me.”

Brian gulped. It wasn’t fair of him to shut out his housemate. He had to say something. He turned his head on the pillow, and the cool air from the room hit the remnants of tears on his face. He hoped it wasn’t noticeable, but he doubted it. What did it matter? He didn’t have any dignity left. He looked up, and his throat tightened at the furrow of Roger’s brow and his troubled blue eyes. Roger didn’t voice his emotions that much, like other men their age, but he was a loyal friend. He always was.

“It feels like everything’s crashing down,” he admitted in a small voice. “It’s felt like this for weeks, but now...And I called my parents last night and thought about how my dad would feel about this and I felt worse, because I’m a fuck up of a son.”

“Thinking about your dad’s expectations never does you any good,” Roger said, rubbing his back briefly.

Brian trembled under him. “My mum joked about me bringing a girl home, too, and it hit me that that’s another way I’m disappointing them.”

His frown deepened. “There’s nothing wrong with you, you know that.”

God, Brian was not stable enough for Roger’s instant support. He breathed deeply, not trusting his voice to be steady.

“I wish you’d talked to me sooner,” he said. “Really talked to me. I thought we agreed on this years ago.”

That was yet another way he was a disappointment. “Sorry,” he choked out.

He rubbed his back again. “Like I said, whatever your brain is telling you right now is bullshit. Let’s...let’s take it one step at a time. First: your Instagram. I watched that video you referenced. It was shitty, but did you really need to flip your shit? You just gave everyone more ammunition.”

“I know,” he said hoarsely, his eyes shutting. “I wasn’t thinking. I just…” He thought of the young face of Freddie looking at the camera. “I couldn’t let them talk about Freddie like that. It isn’t fair.”

“But you hardly know him,” he said in genuine bewilderment. 

That really stung. “I know,” he whispered. “But he deserves so much better, Rog.” Why couldn’t people be nicer to him? He was talented and funny and kind and beautiful. “If I don’t stand up for him, hardly anyone else will. They don’t get him.”

Roger was quiet for a long, pregnant pause. 

Enough time passed for Brian to open his eyes and look up questioningly. 

Roger’s lips were parted, his eyes big and round, but with understanding, not shock. “Holy shit, it’s _Freddie.”_

Brian didn’t follow. “What?”

“You’ve been crushing on Freddie this whole time,” he accused.

Brian’s heart beat faster and he scrambled to sit up. He wiped fruitlessly at his face. “What? I, what makes you say that?”

“Brian,” he said flatly. “I didn’t realize it ‘til now, but you’ve been acting funny ever since I showed you his channel, _and_ you have a new crush? And it’s a man? That’s too much of a coincidence.”

Brian had nothing to say. He looked down at his hands, his curls hiding his blush. At least he didn’t have to hide it anymore, he supposed.

“This makes so much more sense,” Roger said, nearly sounding relieved. “No wonder you’re ready to bite someone’s head off about him.”

He didn’t feel better. “Don’t rub it in,” he mumbled. “I made a complete and utter arse of myself for the world to see for a man I’ve never met. It’s pathetic. He probably wants nothing to do with me now.”

“Did he say that?”

“I haven’t spoken to him.”

“Then you don’t know that.”

“I do,” he said stubbornly. “Besides, if he didn’t know how I felt before, he does now. Do you know how many comments I got telling me to suck him off?”

“I did see some,” he mumbled. “But you only called him your friend in the video. Nothing was inherently incriminating about it.”

“I don’t know,” he said dejectedly. “I just want to deactivate all my social media accounts.”

“Don’t be rash,” Roger said. “That’s how this started.”

He shrunk in on himself.

“Don’t look like that,” he nudged his arm. “Actually _listen_ to me: stay off your bloody phone for a few days.”

“Should I take the post down?” he lifted his head.

Roger bit his lip. “I... don’t know. It’s already out there. You didn’t say anything actually wrong, though. It’s just that you looked ready to murder someone and the worst wank stains of the internet found it. There are always going to be idiots who dislike you for bullshit reasons, but if you meant what you said,” he shrugged. “It’s not like you did anything worse than that gossip channel. I’d probably do something similar if they made a video about you.” He considered it. “Maybe not _quite_ so ticked off, though, since I’m not in love with you.”

“I’m not in love with Freddie!” he denied with burning cheeks.

“You know what I mean,” Roger said with a smile that implied he meant what he said.

Brian buried his face in his hands. “This day is the fucking worst,” he said weakly. He still wasn’t feeling much better, but at least Roger supported him.

“I’m just saying, you didn’t say anything awful so it’s up to you if you wanna delete it. That might cause another reaction, though. You could always stick to your guns and defend your man,” he taunted.

“Roger,” he warned.

“Sorry.”

He lifted his head, and he realized Roger hadn’t judged him for liking Freddie this whole time. “You don’t think it’s stupid that I’m this upset over Freddie?” he asked skeptically.

“Well,” he looked him over, “I don’t think you should be this upset over anybody, but Freddie is good looking and talented. He—wait,” he held up a hand. “Did you seriously not tell me all this time because you thought I’d judge?”

He shrugged childishly. “I’ve been going mad over an internet singer. It’s not rational.”

“God, you’re a piece of work,” Roger groaned. “But not because you like Freddie. Brian,” he said firmly. “I’m your friend. Just ’cause we bicker doesn’t mean I'm constantly judging you, you dummy. And _don’t_ apologize,” he added when Brian opened his mouth. 

Brian felt the tiniest bit of weight leave his shoulders. “Thanks,” he said instead of apologizing.

Roger nodded. “It’s fine. For what it’s worth, by the way, John responded to that video, too.”

“He did?” he asked. John didn’t get into much drama before.

“He didn’t exactly say it was about that,” Roger said while getting his phone, “but I think it’s implied. Here, he posted this on his story.”

It was a repost of an old Vine with a man singing “go suck a dick”* multiple times.

Brian smiled for the first time all day. “Very to the point.” He was once again glad that Freddie had a good friend in his life. He sat up a little straighter and wiped his face more.

“Yeah,” Roger smiled and put his phone away. “Are you a little better now?”

“Maybe,” he conceded, although they both knew he didn’t feel _good._ He didn’t feel like wasting away in his room at the moment, though, and he’d take a small victory. “I’m going to try to stop thinking about it for a little while.”

“Good. If I catch you on your phone tonight, I’m tossing it out the window.”

“Fair enough.” Brian came out of his head enough to remember Roger worked this morning. “I didn’t even ask you about your new job. How was it?”

“Annoying!” he said. “The other guy never showed up! I had to learn how to work the bloody register myself.”

“That’s unprofessional.”

“Damn right. I’m gonna give him a piece of my mind tomorrow if he bothers to show up.”

“Just don’t throw something at your new coworker, okay?”

“I’ll try.” Roger stood up. “Get up, we’re ordering takeaway and not thinking about the sodding internet tonight.”

Brian fought past the pain in his chest and got out of bed for Roger's sake more than his own. “Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *You've probably seen [the vine John posted](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v4adjiPvS1g) but here's a link just in case.
> 
> I can't believe we're 26,000 words in and Brian and Freddie haven't met lmao. I'm pretty sure that will change next chapter


	7. Chapter 7

Brian decided against deleting the video from his account. It was already out there, probably downloaded in case he took it down, the damage was done, the comments were made, and removing it would only draw more attention. He did mean what he said, too, and feared a retraction of the video would be seen as a retraction of support, and he wanted Freddie to know he was on his side. Then again, Brian still felt humiliated about the whole affair and didn’t want to know what Freddie thought of his outburst. He was still convinced that Freddie must have pieced together his true feelings by now, no matter how much Roger told him his actions could be taken as good friendship. Enough people in the comments saw through him, so why wouldn’t Freddie? He certainly didn’t seem like a stupid person, not by a long shot. 

In any case, Brian deleted Instagram from his phone again so he wouldn’t be tempted to look at a single thing. Deleting the app meant he wouldn’t see any messages from Freddie berating him for making such an arse of himself, if he were to send any, too. He also turned the comments off on his post. People probably saw this as cowardly, but they thought so little of him already, and he couldn’t deal with more people telling him to kill himself. Not even the screenshots of positive comments he kept on his phone could make the death wishes and threats feel any less awful. 

He felt like shit for the rest of the night and into the morning, but he didn’t expect to feel better yet. It was nice of Roger to sit and watch mindless telly with him, but he could only help so much, and after he eventually went to bed, Brian was alone with his thoughts. He didn’t go on his phone or computer, as he promised Roger, so he was left with nothing to do but stare at the wall or ceiling during the night. He couldn’t sleep. He didn’t want to wake Roger with his guitar, though. His forehead pounded from stress, the comments he’d seen glued to his eyelids every time he tried to close his eyes. All he wanted to do was have fun with his guitar on the internet. How did he wind up as a pathetic mess? His heart, right. It always caused trouble for him. The other YouTubers didn’t go and fall for each other. He wasn’t cut out for all this rubbish. He thought of what the gossip channels must be saying about him now and shuddered. He resisted the urge to check. Responding to criticism of himself would be worse than standing up for a friend, anyway, even he knew that. Searching his name on YouTube or Twitter would certainly bring trouble, but the knowledge that people were talking about him wouldn’t go away. Why did he even bother making content? No one cared about the work he put out, just drama. He could delete all his videos tomorrow and no one would care, not really. They’d move on in an instant.

Brian tossed and turned all night, a persistent weight on his chest and his thoughts refusing to slow down. He thought he slept for a little bit, but he couldn’t be sure. The hours blended together into one long, painful night. He did the breathing exercises his therapist back in high school taught him, which prevented him from having a full blown panic attack at 3 in the morning, but he just couldn’t stop thinking about any of it. He hated his brain so much and, in darker moments such as this, wondered why he couldn’t just be normal. He was always his own worst enemy, always worrying himself sick and falling for people but being unable to talk to them, much less keep them, and always at risk of becoming unstable. In these moments, he indulged in self-pity and wondered how his mind could go so off the rails when he didn’t even have a hard life, all in all. The fact that he was like this without having some terrible life event only made him feel worse about himself, although Roger told him in the past that he couldn’t help how his brain was wired.

Brian blinked slowly when his alarm clock finally went off. He had to teach maths today. God damn it. He slowly sat up. His eyes burned and stung. He took so long getting dressed that he had to skip breakfast, which did nothing to make him feel better, and he had no time to attempt to tame his curls or shave. He probably looked like utter crap when he showed up to class, but whatever, he couldn’t care. He was being paid to educate kids, not look good.

Brian owed it to his students to put effort into the lesson, though, and it was a good thing he could teach maths in his sleep (or on a lack of sleep) because it didn’t go that badly. If they noticed his voice was quieter and more subdued today, no one mentioned it. The girls who’d talked to him about YouTube in the past were staring at him intensely throughout class with pity in their eyes. 

“Mr. May?” the headmaster poked her head in after the class ended and as students were walking out.

“Oh, hello, Dr. Jones,” he smiled politely. 

“Do you have a moment?”

“Yes, of course,” he said, straightening his slouched posture and swallowing down his heart, which had suddenly leapt into his throat.

She waited until they were alone and said, “Now, I know it’s a different world from when I grew up, and while you haven’t posted anything vulgar or offensive—”

A wave of anxiety rippled through him.  _ Oh god. _

”—I ask that you...try not to attract as much attention on your public social media accounts,” she smiled thinly. “I think you know what I’m talking about.”

A self-conscious flush rose up his neck. “I...How do you know?” Better yet, how  _ much  _ did she know?

“I overheard some students talking about you this morning before first period and your, hm, what did they say? ‘Cool smackdown’ and how you’re a ‘based Chad’?” she furrowed her eyebrows deeply in confusion.

The flush rose to his cheeks. “Uh...oh,” he choked out. “Um…”

“I’m not exactly sure what that means,” she admitted, “but I know it has something to do with your internet presence. Please keep in mind that our students can see, yes?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, feeling like a scolded child. “I apologize for distracting the students from their studies.”

“Oh, they do that enough on their own,” she laughed lightly. “Don’t worry, you’re a good kid and the students love you. Just keep in mind what I said.”

Now he really felt like a scolded child. “Will do,” he nodded.

The conversation made him feel even worse. He wanted to hide away. He used the loo before he left for uni and got a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror. The circles under his eyes were dark and purple enough to make him look like he had a cold, combined with how pale he was. He didn’t think he was very attractive on a good day, but now he winced hard at his reflection. He put on a spare hoodie he kept in his bag and pulled up the hood to try to contain his hair and to hide, now that he was leaving for campus and didn’t have to teach. He felt a little less shitty since he felt a little more inconspicuous now, but not by much. Curls still popped out and tried to break free from his hood, but he didn’t care. He just needed to get through the day, go home, and lock himself in his room. 

Brian checked his phone for any texts when he got out of his last class of the day and saw a message from Roger.

Roger:  _ “Hey! When u finish class come by my stall.” _

Brian frowned.  _ “What? Why?” _ he sent as he walked through campus to the tube.

Roger:  _ “You’ll see.” _

_ “Is something wrong?” _

Roger:  _ “No not at all.” _

Brian sighed.  _ “Do you need something?” _

Roger:  _ “Just trust me ;)” _

Brian was too drained for this.  _ “Rog, I’m not in the mood for games.” _

Roger:  _ “Seriously u should come.” _

_ “I’m tired and want to go home.” _

Roger:  _ “We can go home together. I only have an hour left.” _

Brian was irked, but he was curious because Roger wasn’t one to be secretive and shifty. Insistent, yes, but not tight-lipped. Brian really wanted to crawl into bed, but perhaps locking himself in his bedroom for the rest of the night wasn’t a good idea. He needed sleep, but knowing his fucked up mind, he probably wouldn’t be able to crash as soon as he got home because his anxiety was still making his heart beat quicker than usual, especially after the talk with the headmaster. Brian was now standing in the middle of the pavement and he let out another sigh.

_ “You’re up to something,” _ he told Roger. 

Roger:  _ “Never!” _

_ “Liar. But. Fine. _

Roger:  _ Great :D” _

_ “What stall am I even looking for anyway?” _

Roger sent a picture of the front of the stall for reference, so Brian reluctantly went to Kensington Market instead of home to his bed.  _ This better be good, Rog, _ he thought to himself. When he finally got in front of the stall at half past 4, Roger was waiting for him outside.

“There you are,” he beamed. “Boy, you look tired, why don’t I run and grab you a coffee?” he asked quickly.

Brian stopped in his tracks. “What’re you up to?” he asked, because he’d been friends with Roger long enough to know he was absolutely acting weird.

Roger put up his hands. “Nothing! I know you’re probably tired, is all. You look tired. I’m gonna go grab both of us some coffee, okay? I could use some, too. Why don’t you just wait inside the stall for a minute?”

Brian huffed in annoyance, the corners of his eyes burning with fatigue. He didn’t buy this schtick. Roger had some kind of trick up his sleeve. “Did you seriously prevent me from going home because of bloody coffee?”

“No!” he denied. “Of course not. But don’t you want some?”

“It might keep me from falling over,” he conceded.

“Exactly. Just go inside and set your stuff down.” He smirked. “You’re here already, eh? No use in going home.”

Brian gritted his teeth. “Why’re you so annoying today?”

“Hang on,” Roger ignored him. He walked towards him and pulled the hood from his hoodie off his head.

“Hey!” Brian tried to put the hood back up.

“No, keep it down, trust me,” Roger said and started to mess with his hair with a focused furrow between his brow.

“What are you doing?” Brian batted his hands away.

“I’m fixing your hair,” Roger grumbled. “Did you even  _ try  _ to comb it today?”

“Stop acting like my mum!” Brian hissed and stepped backwards. “What’s gotten into you?” Seriously, what the hell was he doing, fixing up his hair in the middle of a marketplace? Brian stuffed his hands into the pocket of his hoodie so he wouldn’t be tempted to strangle Roger in broad daylight.

“Go in the stall,” Roger said sternly. “Say hi to my coworker. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Brian really didn’t feel like leaving as soon as he got here, so he shot daggers at Roger and went through the small back door into the stall, despite not feeling like making small talk with a stranger today. The place was filled with clothes with a couple of wooden chairs and a cash register by the front of the stall. It was somehow bigger than it looked on the outside. It had a warm atmosphere that made the stiffness in his posture let up slightly. He looked for a place to set down his bag and turned his head to the right.

At the other end of the stall there was a person rummaging around in a chest, which was presumably filled with more clothes. They looked like a man, although it was hard to tell because the person’s back was facing him. They had shoulder-length black hair and wore tight white trousers and a black jacket with yellow flowers all over it.

_ Must be the coworker.  _ Brian didn’t want to be rude. His terrible mood wasn’t this person’s fault. He took a couple steps forward and the sound of his clogs made the person lift their head.

“Back already, Roger?” the coworker asked lightly and turned around, holding a shirt. The person was a man, whose eyes went huge and lips parted as the friendly grin fell from his face. The shirt dropped from his limp fingers.

Brian’s heart stopped and his breath caught in his throat. For the first time since two nights ago, his racing thoughts skidded to a halt and there was nothing in his brain for a few long seconds. The world outside of the stall went silent. He was staring into large, stunned brown eyes which were even more captivating in person. He hadn’t felt such genuine astonishment in a long time. His mouth moved, but nothing came out. He licked his lips. _ “Freddie?” _ he asked in disbelief with a slight wheeze.

Freddie blinked rapidly and ducked his head. He quickly grabbed the shirt from the ground, his eyes wide but looking anywhere but him. “Brian. Um,” he gripped the shirt tightly. “Hi,” he said quietly.

“Hi.” Brian’s mind came back online with hot anger because he realized  _ this  _ was why Roger bugged him to come here and tried to fix his appearance.  _ God damn it, Roger! _ He looked abominable today! His hair was a catastrophe and he looked like he hadn’t slept or seen the sun in years. He was a train wreck. He was in no way prepared to talk to Freddie over email, either, let alone in person! This was a terrible idea! Brian hadn’t eaten all day and he bit the inside of his cheek against the wave of nausea that rolled through him. He didn’t know what to do. He gulped. 

Freddie’s eyes flickered up to his, then darted away as soon as they met Brian’s. His grip tightened even more on the shirt, creating wrinkles. He pressed his lips together.

“You work here?” Brian asked stupidly, his frazzled brain struggling to comprehend this weird coincidence that he and Roger wound up at the same stall.

“Yes I, I just started not too long ago,” he spoke quietly, almost mumbling. “I needed the money, so…Here I am. Bit of a coincidence...” his voice trailed off. He looked deeply uncomfortable.

_ Uncomfortable around me.  _ And why wouldn’t he be? He probably thought Brian was a lovesick fool at best and a creepy stalker at worst. He probably wished Brian would leave right this instant. This was the most awkward Brian felt all month, and the bar was already so low. He had to find an excuse to get the hell out of here. Roger was mad, thinking this was a good idea. Brian was going to throw him out a window later.

“Did Roger tell you to come here?” Freddie asked, lifting his head hesitantly.

“Yeah, well, I just got out of my classes and he said he and I should go home together ‘cause he’ll be finished here soon,” he explained.  _ And Roger’s a prick trying to set us up. _

“I see,” Freddie nodded, avoiding eye contact, shrinking in on himself.

God, this was so bad. What kind of small talk could he possibly make to cut through the tension? He wasn’t keen to bring up anything related to social media, but they hardly knew each other and couldn’t talk about much else. As much as Brian wanted to tell Freddie he shouldn’t listen to what any wanker said about him, he knew to keep his mouth shut for once.

As Brian struggled to think of a non-rude reason to leave the stall, he noticed just how small Freddie actually was in real life. He didn’t envision him as particularly tall and it wasn’t like he looked buff on camera, but he appeared to be several inches shorter than Brian and had a small stature in general. The way he chewed his bottom lip would have been cute if Brian didn’t feel like shit for making him so uneasy.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your work,” Brian said because he couldn’t think of anything else.

He shrugged with a hint of a smile, but it didn’t come to fruition. “Trust me, I’m hardly working.”

Brian grinned a little. “I can’t imagine Roger’s working more than you.”

“He’s quite nice, really.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s a good salesman.”

“No, you’re right.” Freddie’s eyes were glued to the floor. He swallowed audibly.

There went his attempt at small talk. Freddie’s body language was completely closed off and he refused to look up at his face for longer than a second. Brian could take the hint. He wasn’t welcome here. 

He sighed, his heart heavy. “I should—” His stomach decided to make its emptiness known at that moment, and his face went hot when a loud growl from hunger interrupted him.

Freddie raised his eyebrows and lifted his head. “Oh, are you hungry?”

He put a hand over his stomach self-consciously. “Yeah, uh, sorry. I didn’t have much to eat today is all,” he mumbled, wishing a black hole would consume him.

“Hold on,” Freddie said and bounced over to a bag, presumably his own, and dug out a small, blue, tin box. He went over to Brian and held it out. “Here you are!” he said, his voice loud compared to the mumbling a few moments ago. “There are some tea biscuits in there. Better than nothing, right?”

Brian took the box in confusion.

Misreading his expression, Freddie rushed to explain, “I visit my mum once a week and she gives them to me. I saw her this morning.” He almost sounded nervous.

“You’re giving me your mum’s biscuits? I can’t take them,” he said, thrown off guard by the sudden generosity and feeling unworthy of it.

“Nonsense!” Freddie exclaimed. Then, as if realizing how loud he was, he shrunk in on himself again and mumbled, “I won’t let you waste away to nothing in this stall. Why don’t you sit down?”

Brian didn’t want to reject his kind offer. He sat in one of the folding chairs by the racks of clothes, clutching the box like a clueless kid, and then opened it. He started to eat a biscuit, and let out a little hum. “These are good,” he said honestly. “Your mum’s a good baker.”

Freddie grinned but quickly covered his teeth with his upper lip. “She is,” he said proudly. “You just eat those. Um. Is Roger getting you coffee, as well?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Brian said after swallowing, trying not to be a slob by talking with food in his mouth. Even though he’d need an actual meal when he got home, the biscuits were good and something starchy might settle his stomach and prevent him from getting physically ill from nerves. “Thank you for this, Freddie,” he said sincerely.

“Don’t mention it,” he waved his hand. “I don’t want Roger to return to find his friend passed out from hunger.”

Brian smiled and he was pleased that, at least for a second, some of the tension between them seemed to ease. He wondered if Freddie was still uncomfortable around him, but the biscuits in his hands said otherwise. Then again, maybe he was just being nice. Brian didn’t know. He looked up from the box in his hands.

Freddie was looking at him, but he quickly averted his gaze and went back over to the chest he’d been looking through before.

Hm. Should Brian try to talk to him more? He was always so bad at talking to his crushes and Freddie made him jittery like no one else. The biscuits gave him an excuse not to talk, though. It felt like there was an elephant in the room, however. Just a couple days ago, he publicly and vehemently defended Freddie against a terrible video that got a lot of views. He must have known about the whole thing. There was no way he didn’t. Brian looked over at Freddie while he was occupied, at the way his teeth peaked out on top of his lower lip. Brian hated that anyone would make fun of him about that.  _ Do you know what they say about you? Do you care? They’re wrong.  _ Brian silently kept chewing.

After Freddie put some shirts on display, he sighed. “I hope no one comes by,” he said under his breath. He looked over at Brian. “Are you all right?” he asked quietly, but he was staring right at him.

“Yeah,” he sat up straighter. 

Freddie’s direct eye contact was a little overwhelming. “Are you certain?”

Was he talking about the situation, or just asking a general question? Better play dumb. “Do I seem like I’m not?” he countered.

“You seem a little out of it,” Freddie said, looking him over.

Brian felt exposed. He knew how badly he looked. “I’m just tired,” he mumbled. “Class and all.”  _ I’ve been losing sleep over you.  _

He was averting his gaze again, but something about his stance was slightly less awkward than before. “Uni’s difficult, then?”

“Sometimes. What about you, aren’t you in uni?” 

“Yes, but it’s boring more than anything else,” he shrugged. “Roger told me you bring in money by tutoring, too. If only we had a sofa here or something instead of these terrible chairs,” he said, looking around with a pout, “otherwise you could rest up here.”

Aside from getting caught up in how nice Freddie’s lips looked in a pout, Brian didn’t know why he was being so nice to him. He was a weirdo, some loon who became obsessed with him online. Freddie had every right to be scornful and yet he was the opposite. He didn’t understand.

“I’ll be okay,” Brian said. “I won’t keel over on you, I promise.”

Just then, Roger came into the stall with a cup holder tray in his hands. Three drinks were in it. As much as Brian wanted to strangle him, he was momentarily glad that Roger was back to break up this god-awful tension. 

“Hey,” Roger smiled brightly at them. “Got your drinks. Coffee for Brian,” he gave it to him, “and the guy was confused but he made some Earl Grey for you, Freddie.”

“Great,” Freddie took the cup with a grateful, closed-lipped smile.

“Where’d you get biscuits?” Roger asked Brian in bewilderment.

“They’re my mum’s,” Freddie answered. “The poor dear is starving. Don’t you feed him, Roger?”

“He’s not a dog,” Roger laughed. “But he does try to bite when I tell him off,” he said pointedly to Brian.

“All right, all right,” he grumbled.

Freddie’s smile grew and his hand flew to his mouth as he giggled. It was so different from how he acted online. Did he normally act this way off the internet, or was he hiding his smile because of wankers on the internet? Brian really hoped it was the former, because he realized Freddie had been trying not to smile fully this entire time.

Roger caught him staring and wiggled his eyebrows at him, his head turned away so Freddie wouldn’t see.

Brian mouthed,  _ “Shut up!” _

“Excuse me?” a woman asked in front of the stall. “Are you open?”

Brian saw the quick flash of disappointment on Freddie and Roger’s faces.

“Yes, my dear,” Freddie said and walked to the front of the stall.

Brian watched Freddie and Roger be salesmen to a group of young women with amusement. He closed the tin of biscuits because it would be rude to eat them all and held back a laugh when Roger looked like he wanted to yell because more customers came. He felt a tiny pinch of schadenfreude watching Roger working retail. That was what he got for shoving Brian into the stall with Freddie with zero warning. He sat back, sipped his coffee, and watched.

“Finally,” Roger sighed when the clock hit 5. 

“Lucky bitch,” Freddie frowned.

“If you don’t want to close, then open the stall in the morning,” Roger smiled.   
“No thank you,” he deadpanned.

Brian huffed out a laugh and handed the box back to him. “Thank you again for these, Freddie.”

“Don’t even mention it,” he looked up at him with a little grin. “I…” He looked past Brian and his eyebrows furrowed together.

Brian turned around.

Roger was gone. He’d taken his bag and disappeared.

_ That fucking— _

“He’s eager to get home,” Freddie commented.

“Looks like it,” Brian said dryly. 

“He’s fun to be around, though.”

“He can be,” he agreed. When he looked back at Freddie, he noticed how close they were standing now. He was so much taller than he was. Brian slouched a bit and put his hands in the pocket of his hoodie. “Well, it was nice to meet you, Freddie.”

His eyes lowered, appearing self-conscious again. He fiddled with his hands. “It was nice to meet you, too, Brian. Maybe you could come by again.”

“Really?” Brian couldn’t stop himself from asking. “You want to see me again?”

Freddie’s eyes snapped to his. “Why, yes,” he said in a puzzled tone. “Why wouldn’t I?”

_ For about a dozen reasons.  _ But he didn’t want to bring any of it up. If Freddie didn’t want to talk about it, then neither did he. Brian shook his head. “No I, I don’t know. But, yeah, I could stop by again sometime.”

He pressed his lips into a smile and nodded curtly. He looked up at him from under his lashes. 

_ Damn it, he’s cuter in person. _

He was gazing up at Brian, a question in his eyes, but whatever it was, he didn’t voice it. He lowered his eyes to the floor again. “Okay. See you, Brian.” __

Brian wished he would say what was on his mind. “See you later, Freddie.” When he went outside, the cool air hit his warm cheeks and made him notice that he’d been blushing. Brian spotted Roger a few steps away and he stalked towards him.  _ “You.” _

“Sooooo, how’d it go while I was gone? ” Roger asked brightly as they began walking to the bus stop.

“You arse,” Brian shot daggers at him. “That was the most awkward experience I’ve had in a long while, and that’s saying something! You gave me no warning!”

“Because I knew you’d chicken out and not show up if I told you he was there,” Roger said, unfazed.

“I look like shit today!” Brian said, whining a little but too fed up to care.

“Your hair’s not as combed as usual, but that’s about it,” Roger said. “You’re worrying too much, and I’m sure it wasn’t that bad before I came back.”

“It was so uncomfortable,” Brian told him. “I don’t think he wanted to be around me.”

“What makes you say that?” he raised an eyebrow.

“He hardly looked at me the whole time and mumbled and, I don’t know, I tried making small talk but it didn’t work.”

Roger rolled his eyes. “He gave you his mum’s biscuits. Why would he do that if he didn’t wanna be around you?”

“He was probably just being polite. He said he wished there were a sofa in the stall so I could rest, too, because I’m tired. He was being nice for the sake of being nice.”

The look on Roger’s face said it all. “Brian, stop being a moron. It sounds like he was fussing over you. I don’t do that for people I dislike.”

“No, it wasn’t like that. It just sounds different out of context.” 

Roger’s facial expression didn’t change. “Uh huh. Sure.”

“Seriously,” he insisted. “He wouldn’t have avoided eye contact with me if I didn’t make him feel uncomfortable.”

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe he’s kinda shy when he meets new people? Because he acted a little bit like that when we met today, too, but he started to warm up to me after a few hours.”

Brian remembered Freddie’s soft, quiet voice, hidden smiles, fidgeting hands, and averted gaze. Those...were things a shy person would exhibit. Freddie didn’t act that way at all online, but maybe that was a show he put on for his audience? Besides, he wouldn’t have any real reason to be uncomfortable around Roger, and he’d apparently acted similarly.

Roger snorted when Brian was silent. “Nope, that never occurred to you in that big brain of yours,” he said under his breath.

“You really think he doesn’t hate me?” he asked.

Roger groaned. “Christ,  _ no,  _ Brian. We didn’t sit around all day and wax poetic about your curly mop, but when I mentioned stuff about you, he didn’t look bothered at all.”

“Did he mention anything about YouTube or Instagram?” he asked.

“No, not at all. Did he say anything about it to you?”

“No. I don’t know what that means.”

“If he’s not confronting you over it, then isn’t it a good thing?”

“I dunno, but it’s weird because it’s like we both know this thing happened and it’s hanging over us.” He sighed. “Or at least it felt that way.”

They stood now at the bus stop. Roger rubbed his eye with his knuckle. “Okay, let’s try to be objective here. He didn’t mention anything about social media and acted maybe a little awkward, but he fed you up and wished you could have a place to nap. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

“God, don’t say he fed me up,” Brian squinted. “That sounds pornographic.”

“Is that a kink of yours?” Roger quirked an eyebrow.

“No!” he said, pulling up his hood in a huff. 

A woman standing near them at the bus stop looked disturbed.

Brian clutched the hood around his burning face. Time to get the topic as far away as sex with Freddie as possible. “Anyway,” he muttered, “him being your coworker is such a weird coincidence.”

“You’re telling me,” Roger said. “We were both surprised to see each other. He recognized me. He’s lucky I like him, too, or else I would’ve chewed him out for missing work yesterday.”

Brian inhaled sharply. “He didn’t show up to work the day after that hate video was posted,” he instantly put the pieces together. “He must’ve been upset!”

“Oh god,” Roger said under his breath. “I see that look you’re getting when you want to start an argument. Don’t you dare go on your bloody Instagram and start something,” he warned.

“I won’t,” Brian said, but it would be difficult because rage was filling his veins. That must have been what happened. That bastard and all his idiot followers must have upset Freddie. Brian did want to tell them off, but didn’t want to anger Roger or make Freddie feel more uneasy around him. But still. The idea of Freddie being upset enough to miss work…

“He said he’s always late to things,” Roger said. “Maybe it didn’t mean anything.”

Brian didn’t even hear him. He was remembering his conversation with John on the tube.

_ “Freddie always says he’s fine.” _

_ “Does he mean that?”  _

_ “On most days, I think so. But sometimes…” _

Brian wanted to be there for him, but he didn’t know how. He tried and royally fucked it all up. He couldn’t do anything right. 

Roger was staring at him. “Y’know, if you’re concerned about him, you could just try being his friend.”

Brian blinked out of his reverie. “What?”

“I mean you should stop thinking about all this when you see him. Just treat him like a person. Be friendly. Maybe that’s all he needs.”

Sometimes, Brian remembered just how much he needed Roger’s common sense. He wasn’t an overthinker—he was a doer. Brian needed his outside opinion a lot. “Maybe you’re right,” he conceded. Maybe it wasn’t as complicated as he was making it out to be. He didn’t know. He just wanted to go home.

“I know I am,” Roger said. He looked over Brian’s shoulder. “The bus is coming. Come on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They finally met!! I hope it was worth the wait, and that I balanced Freddie's shyness and generosity well enough.


End file.
